


Killing Me Slowly

by keeparecordofthewreckage



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Arranged Marriage AU, Disney, Disney AU, F/M, New Dream, New Dream AU, Tangled AU, angst with happy ending, tangled
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 22:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 197,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeparecordofthewreckage/pseuds/keeparecordofthewreckage
Summary: Living in Corona, Eugene and Rapunzel are more in love than ever. One year post-tower, they have navigated trauma, grief, new relationships, and what it means to have a real family. But is their love strong enough to withhold the restraints of an unexpected arranged marriage? (Rated M for references to prior trauma, sexual intimacy, and language).This is a currently active story, originally started on Fanfiction.net, but I wanted to add it here to reach more Tangled lovers, as well!
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hello, readers. I am here with your (hopefully) newest bit of Tangled guilty pleasure. 'Killing Me Slowly' is a story that I originally began over on Fanfiction.Net, but I wanted to add it here to reach more Tangled lovers like myself. This is the first Tangled story that I have published, though I have started plenty of stories that have remained in the graveyard that is my notes app, and it has been my favorite movie since circa 2010. This story will include some of your favorite characters from Tangled the Series, but will not follow the storyline of the black rocks, Rapunzel's reoccurring blonde hair, or the moonstone in any way. 
> 
> 'Killing Me Slowly' is a completely different story in its own right, filled with forbidden love, secrets, and an arranged marriage. If any of these words piqued your interest in the slightest, please, stick around. It's about to be a cycle of hurt and pain, but one of passion and true love, as well. I suggest that you listen to the song Killing Me Slowly by Bad Wolves before reading the story, as it has provided the inspiration for the ensuing situation below.
> 
> This story is Rated M for mature themes, sexuality, and language.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Tangled – though of course, I wish that I did. The upcoming chapters will be much longer than this one, but I simply wanted to get this story off the ground. Now, without further ado, let's do this thing.

**Chapter 1: Rude Interruptions**

Eugene wonders if she can shove her tongue down his throat any farther, or if the way that she's rocking her hips against him can possibly turn him on any more. Lying there in the soft hay of the barn loft, he and Rapunzel had struggled their way up the ladder only five minutes earlier after a particularly long horseback ride, trying not to kiss one another at each rung.

He removes Rapunzel from her comfortable place in his lap, causing her lip to pout adorably, though a smile quickly graces her face when he lies her down in the hay before settling between her legs. He reaches down to gently nudge them further open, exposing her to the warm, setting end-of-summer sun which shows itself through the loft windows.

Eugene notes the way that the sunshine always feels and tastes a little like her.

His lips drag up the inside of her thigh until he reaches her silky underwear, smirking as her impatient fingers tug at his hair. Eugene pushes her long skirt up, bunching it around her waist. Rapunzel is already whimpering his name, sending a cold shiver down his spine – a shiver which goes straight to his groin. Eugene clasps her shaking calves in his steady hands after placing them over his shoulders, pulling her closer to him. Breathing against her, he leaves tantalizing kisses up and down her thighs – causing her to moan with a brutal impatience – before finally lapping at the wetness which is already dripping down the inside of her thighs.

She's always more than ready to let him show her just how much he adores her, and he's always more than ready to oblige.

"Oh, God, yes… _Eugene_ …"

Her cheeks burn with a flustered pink color, her short hair a tousled mess, his name falling from her lips with reckless abandon – and he couldn't possibly feel more serene in this moment.

"There are a few things in life that I never wanted to see,"

Rapunzel's eyes snap open as she quickly pushes herself up from the hay, a deep crimson traveling up her neck to dot her cheeks – a very _different_ kind of blush from the one in which she'd only just been experiencing.

It's adorable, really, though Eugene isn't the least bit surprised by this rude interruption, and even less appreciative of it. He stands easily, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, before turning around to face the ultimate bane of his existence.

And continually effective cockblocker.

Cassandra spreads two of the fingers which she's now using in the hopes of protecting her eyes from the intimate scene before her, peeking through them cautiously, eyeing Rapunzel's still bewildered – and even more embarrassed – face. With slight amusement, Cassandra watches as her dearest friend's chest still heaves slightly – her lips still recovering from wanting to moan out her love's name – as the princess scrambles to stand and smooth her dress. Rapunzel tries her best to appear presentable, though fails miserably: her hair disheveled, her eyes wide and dilated with obvious desire.

"And _that_ is definitely one of those things." Cassandra finishes, shivering dramatically, pursing her lips in disgust.

"C'mon, Cass _an_ dra. Just because no one will fuck you –"

" _Eugene_."

 _That_ comment only gets him a disapproving look from Rapunzel – which is quite low on Eugene's list of favorite looks to grace her pretty face (he would very much prefer joy, or pride, or the awestruck look typically on her face when she's with him) – so he decides to keep his mouth shut. For now.

It has been nearly a year since Rapunzel has been reunited with her family. One year of pure bliss: horseback rides through the forest, painting on palace walls, finding secret hiding places, falling pathetically deep in love with one another, and Eugene's personal favorite: one year of Rapunzel's slow, but sure, sexual awakening.

Now, it wasn't that he'd pushed her, or that Eugene wouldn't have been okay with waiting for her to be comfortable with exploring her sexuality, however long it might take. He wasn't even the one to _broach_ the subject of anything that went beyond a simple kiss. Because, honestly, Eugene had been deathly afraid of what she might say, or that he would only confuse the newly-returned princess further. In the first few weeks of living in the castle, Rapunzel had plenty to be confused about. Sex wasn't exactly something to be taken lightly, and it _definitely_ wasn't something to be taken lightly with the love of your life and the girl who you would quite literally _die_ for.

Needless to say, the notion of sex is a mindful subject in which Eugene has approached with Rapunzel with a special type of _delicacy_. Although he's unofficially been in charge of teaching the princess about and explaining to her many things in the past year (many things which she probably shouldn't know) – and while Eugene hasn't explained every little thing to her with perfect ease (the ever-presently, overtly _curious_ girl asks a lot of difficult questions) – sexual intimacy is _not_ going to be the thing in which Eugene screws up for her completely.

If something so intimate were to happen before she were truly ready, without the proper buildup, the entire thing could blow up in his face, and Rapunzel would potentially be too afraid to try again. Eugene doesn't want that, if only because their relationship is so pure, and real, and still _slightly_ innocent – innocent in the way that he doesn't want to take things faster than they need to be taken, or so fast that she'll fall headfirst into fear about things which she shouldn't have to be afraid about. Innocent in the way that he doesn't want to take advantage of her unshakeable trust in him – a trust which Eugene has spent an entire _year_ procuring between them.

In the past year, Rapunzel has been forced to face many new things, and has been overstimulated by even more – things like getting to know her parents for the first time, being away from the tower in which she'd known as her only home for eighteen, long years, an endless list of responsibilities and expectations as princess, and coming to terms with the death of the woman whom she'd always _thought_ to be her mother.

And, hardest of them all, learning how to truly trust anyone who isn't Eugene to provide her with proper guidance in the world.

Of course, Rapunzel had almost immediately fallen into an easy intimacy with her parents, forming a special kind of bond with them which can only occur between parent and child. Regardless of the close-knit family unit which Rapunzel, Eugene, and her parents have created in the past year, Rapunzel has always slightly struggled with the possibility of letting anyone but Eugene and herself, truly guide her decisions. After all, she'd been lied to for her entire life, and Eugene is the only thing currently with her in the palace which she'd known _before_ coming to the palace.

Sure, Rapunzel can still carry a bit of naivety in her heart, and perhaps always will. But she was often a bit skeptical of people and their true intentions, too – what with the underlying trauma of what had happened that final day in the tower. What with the fear that, someday, someone would do their best to take Eugene from her once more. She hadn't wanted to feel this way, as not blindly trusting others was so against her nature. But this brutal skepticism after first arriving in the palace, had been something in which the new princess had to work through.

Rapunzel may be naïve, but one thing that she certainly is _not_ , is stupid, and Eugene didn't want to hide the truth of the world from her for the sake of doing it. She wasn't as fragile as she'd been made to believe, and she wasn't as incapable, either. Finally being free from her tower – free from _Gothel_ and her off-putting refusal to allow Rapunzel even the slightest shred of self-worth – had proven that. Rapunzel was well aware of the haunting trauma which laid beneath the surface after that horrible final day in the tower – trauma in which she _knew_ that she had to deal with.

The princess – completely going against her etiquette tutor's best efforts to instill within her proper, royal behavior – would often travel to Eugene's room the middle of the night in the rushing panic of a jolting nightmare, if only to place her hand upon his chest to ensure that he was still breathing, to ensure that his heart was still beating for her. Eugene had become accustomed to her bare feet padding across his wooden floorboards, pulling the warm blankets back, and subsequently climbing into bed with him, despite how inappropriate such a situation was deemed. Typically, he didn't send her away – because, typically, he yearned for her comfort in the middle of the night just as much as she yearned for his.

Needless to say, Rapunzel had _a lot_ to deal with when they first arrived at the palace. Eugene did too, what with his thieving identity being torn into little, Rapunzel-shaped pieces. He had quickly assumed that the _last_ thing on her mind would be learning about sex, of all things. After all, Eugene wasn't entirely reckless or entirely selfish – actually, he was a lot less of both since meeting her. He could live without fooling around if it meant that he could still spend every day with the woman who he'd fallen so pathetically, so _deeply_ in love with over the past year.

But the day that she'd found a _certain_ book on reproduction in the library, about two months post-tower, Eugene was a dead man, as good as gone. She had all but cornered him in his bathroom later that day, asking that he explain to her the inner workings of reproduction and whatever _'sexual intercourse'_ was. Eugene stumbled through a generic explanation, something that had to do with birds and bees, explaining to her delicately that there are parts on a man and parts on a woman – parts which were created to fit together in perfect, blissful harmony.

When this sorry excuse for an effective explanation was quickly followed by the demand that he _show her_ how it all worked in that painfully innocent way of hers, Eugene couldn't be the one to deny her of her education moving forward, now could he? After two months of living in the castle with her, their relationship pure and innocent as could be, the cat was out of the bag, and Eugene wasn't one to deprive his princess of just about anything.

Eugene knew that premarital indiscretions were deeply frowned upon around here, and likely enough to get him thrown out of the castle if caught, but he'd quickly supposed that this special kind of intimacy with the love of his life was a risk that he was willing to take.

Because, frankly, he couldn't stay away from her if he tried.

Besides, they've never gone all the way, and Eugene strongly suspects that they probably never _will_ until she has an engagement ring sparkling on her finger – at least, if he doesn't want to see a rope hanging from his neck anytime soon. Waiting until marriage to have sex would be the right thing to do – if only not to completely overwhelm Rapunzel in a new world – a world in which she is still adjusting to each day.

And – although he'd never admit it – Eugene finds it kind of _romantic_ to know that their first time will be on their wedding night. He'll get to feel her around him for the first time as her husband, and she'll moan his name as his wife, and waiting would be the right thing to do. Despite Eugene's long list of past sexual indiscretions, he desperately yearns for his first time with _her_ to be special, memorable – something which will make Rapunzel feel completely safe and entirely loved. Eugene doesn't want to rush that. Though this night is still a while away, no doubt, Rapunzel is well worth it.

Everything which comes with being with her – endless, stuffy parties with even stuffier guests, and scratchy clothing, and judgmental stares, are well worth it.

Besides, there's _a lot_ that you can still get away with doing, without going all the way. Loopholes are a Eugene Fitzherbert specialty, after all.

Rapunzel had been expectedly nervous when their exploration of her sexuality had first begun. She'd understandably been quite self-conscious, too – no doubt after years of being demeaned and belittled, taught to believe that her only self-worth was tied up in seventy feet of long, golden hair.

But Eugene has been sure to take this newfound intimacy between them painfully slow: always sure to remind her of just how beautiful she is every chance that he could. After all, she was utter perfection in human form, if he'd ever seen it. To Eugene's gratefulness, Rapunzel's shyness around him and subsequent innocence rather quickly melted away from her – _secretly_ melted away from her – but only when he would hike her skirt around her hips, and only behind his closed bedroom door, or in secret places like a hidden meadow or the barn loft. Only for him to see.

And he likes it that way: Eugene likes that his name was the only name which would ever fall from her pretty lips, he likes that he was the only one who could make her feel warm between her legs, and he likes that no one but him would ever have to know about it (at least, until now, when Cassandra had so _rudely_ interrupted them). He likes that she is always more than willing to break royal code for his sake; not because he wants Rapunzel to get into trouble, per say, but because Eugene often finds himself terrified that if she doesn't find the courage to push the boundaries every now and again, the pressure of being a princess will crush her altogether. He likes that they share so many little secrets and inside jokes between them – little secrets like the things that he would teach her in such hidden places.

Things that she really shouldn't know, at least when taking proper etiquette into account.

But she would beg him to show her – to _teach_ her – and Eugene really never was any good for saying no to her.

Beyond her explored sexual experience, the beloved Princess Rapunzel still remains as the slightly naïve, completely bubbly girl who Eugene had come across by pure, lucky happenstance in that prison of a tower. She was still the same, curious girl who he'd fallen head-over-heels in love with and subsequently died for – the girl who feels and tastes like pure sunshine, and makes you feel just as warm when you're around her. Eugene takes pure pride in being the one to transform her from a generally innocent young girl, locked away in a tower, to a young woman who would quickly feel essentially no shame in sneaking him into broom closets for long make out sessions, or padding to his bedroom in the middle of the night, if only to lose a few hours of sleep with him in the exchange of making one another feel good.

Rapunzel had become so completely comfortable with their tightknit intimacy in the past year – in every way, even beyond the physical – and Eugene has always been glad for that. The young princess wasn't quite so innocent when repeating his name in breathless moans, pulling at his hair every time that his head would find its way between her legs, which was often.

And exactly where it had been just now, before such a rude interruption had impaled them.

"Do you have any idea how scarring that was for me?"

"Cass, I am so, _so_ sorry." Rapunzel's wide, green eyes are big and remorseful on her closest friend and lady-in-waiting, before quickly shifting their gaze to narrow upon Eugene's unbothered expression as he raises his hands in a casual defense. "I _knew_ that we should have lifted the ladder! If you would've just listened to me instead of being so focused on –"

Cassandra, thoroughly disgusted in every way, cuts off her best friend to address her reason for interrupting such an intimate moment.

"Look, its fine. Let's just... never speak of this again, okay? Besides, that's not why I came looking for you."

"Is everything okay?" Rapunzel's eyebrows furrow together, noting the typically-serious look bestowing her friend's face.

"Yes, _please,_ do tell the reason why you felt so inclined to interrupt my feel-good-happy-fun-time."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Cassandra swivels in place, her expression transforming from complacent, to completely irritated.

"Oh, shut up, Fitzherbert. Do you ever have _anything_ to say that's not incredibly idiotic, perverted, or both?"

Eugene only shrugs, mostly indifferent to the lady-in-waiting's usual taunting.

"No, not really."

With a hard roll of her eyes, Cassandra returns her gaze to Rapunzel, who has become far too accustomed to her two dearest companions metaphorically grabbing at one another's throats.

"I'm not sure what about, but your parents want to talk to you, and they said it was urgent. So, if I were you, I'd cover the hickey that's probably going to start growing on your neck."

The lady-in-waiting points to Rapunzel, only the slightest twinge of amusement in her dark, unreadable eyes.

"And if I were you," Now, to Eugene. "I'd wipe the smirk off your stupid face."

"Oh, you think _my_ face is stupid? Have you _looked_ in the mirror lately? And that haircut! I mean, come _on!_ Have you ever heard of a little styling –"

Sighing deeply, Rapunzel begins to make her way down the barn loft ladder and away from the stables, padding barefooted to the courtyard where her parents will be waiting for her.

Eugene and Cass will surely be bickering for a while, and who was she to be so rude as to interrupt?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Anyone else ready for a pissed off Rapunzel? Because I sure am. Just a warning, there will be a lot of dialogue occurring in the next few chapters, only to get the plot rolling. I hope you enjoy anyway, because I'm having a lot of fun writing it.
> 
> Time for our favorite disclaimer: I don't own Tangled or its respective characters.

**Chapter 2: True, Angsty, Heartbroken Teen Fashion**

Rapunzel walks through the palace's extensive system of garden courtyards, enjoying the maze of perfectly trimmed hedges. As she walks, she reflects contently on the beauty of her home as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon behind her. The young princess smiles to herself, letting her mind wander to her best friend and the love of her life, who are probably still bickering away in the barn loft where she'd left them.

The king and queen are seated at an outdoor patio section of the garden, eating a late evening meal of pheasant, mixed vegetables, and some sort of vanilla cake that immediately fixates Rapunzel's interest.

The princess pulls out a seat, smiling at her doting parents, noting their long faces with confusion, but reaching for a piece of cake anyway.

"Hi, sweetheart. How was your day?" Queen Arianna asks, a tentative look in her eyes.

Rapunzel shrugs, coating her finger in frosting before licking it clean. She hadn't exactly gotten the whole 'royal table manners' thing down quite yet, but why did it matter? The only people she ever ate with, aside from rare occasions when the palace had an important guest, were her parents, who never explicitly said anything about her table etiquette, and Eugene. After a particular night of eating something called 'chocolate mousse,' Eugene had teased in private that he liked when she sucked her fingers clean. So, sometimes she did it at the dinner table, just so she could watch him squirm a little in front of her parents.

No matter what they were doing, it was always fun to have Eugene around, and for a moment, Rapunzel feels guilty for leaving him up in the barn loft with Cass, where he was surely getting scolded for his slightly big ego or perverted sense of humor.

"My day was good." Rapunzel replies shortly without offering elaboration, distracted by the sweetness of the cake melting on her tongue.

"What did you do?"

The young princess's mind floods with images of breathless whispers, heated kisses, and calloused hands all over her yielding body. Rapunzel plays with her fork, twirling it around on her plate, because the cake suddenly doesn't look as good as it did when she first sat down – at least, not when contemplating some of the other activities she'd participated in that day.

"Oh, you know… I just painted the sunrise this morning from my balcony, attended my morning lessons, ate lunch with Cassandra, took an evening horseback ride with Eugene…"

Well, no more than twenty minutes ago she'd been on the very edge of riding /something, Eugene involved, but it wasn't a horse. Although, the horseback ride wasn't a complete lie.

"That sounds lovely, dear." Queen Arianna responds softly with a strangely sad look, which Rapunzel questions, but doesn't prod about out loud. Perhaps her mother had had a hard day – after all, it couldn't be easy to be queen. Rapunzel was just getting used to the daily responsibilities of a princess, and they were extensive as it was.

"Speaking of Cass, she said you guys wanted to talk to me about something urgent?" Rapunzel licks some more frosting from her fingers, remembering why she and Eugene's 'feel-good-happy-fun time,' as he'd so elegantly called it, had been interrupted in the first place.

The queen clears her throat, but King Frederic speaks before his wife has the chance.

"Yes, we do, actually. It's quite important, and we hope that you'll hear us out before getting too… upset." The king chooses his words carefully, as he normally does. He did so mostly because of the emotional tendencies of his daughter, who was still, understandably, adjusting to the world outside her tower.

"Why… why would I get upset?"

"Well, it's a rather… delicate issue, sweetheart."

"O…kay…" Rapunzel's gaze darts between her parents, before falling back to her mother. "You're starting to make me nervous, Mom. What's going on?"

The royal couple remain quiet for a very long moment, in which Rapunzel sits perfectly still, staring at her parents. Is she in trouble for something? Did they find out that she and Eugene kiss a little too often, and more than just a simple peck on the lips?

Both the king and queen open their mouths several times, but no words come out, causing them to resemble two fish out of water. Finally, King Frederic guiltily blurts the news that he knows will ruin any amount of normalcy his daughter has worked so hard to gain in the last year.

"The council has found you… goodness, how do I put this lightly… they have found an appropriate match for you. His name is Prince Charles, and he is fourth-in-line to the throne of the Maddoline Kingdom. And he'll be here tomorrow."

"An appropriate… match?" Rapunzel isn't sure that she quite understands what her father means by this. The only kind of matches she knows about are the kind that light candles, and the kind she always wins when she convinces Eugene to play chess with her. "What's that supposed to mean – "

Rapunzel is interrupted by the cheerful voice of her love entering the garden, a proud smile on his face, a pouting Cassandra trailing far behind.

"Eugene, Numero Uno. Cassandra, zero!" Eugene waltzes up to the table, having obviously won their latest rift with some below-the-belt comment about her haircut, or maybe about her ever-present know-it-all attitude. "Ooh, cake!"

An awkward silence ensues, lost on Eugene, who is busy sticking out his tongue at a defeated Cassandra. He watches victoriously as the spunky lady-in-waiting disappears behind the large oak doors leading to the gardens.

"You should've seen her face! I had the ultimate comeback, Blondie. After she told me how stupid my face looked, I really gave it to her. You should've been there. I – Did I… interrupt something?"

Eugene finally realizes that no member of the royal family has spoken a word since his arrival, and he hopes he doesn't have a stray piece of hay in his hair, giving away his and Rapunzel's latest indiscretion.

King Frederic clears his throat, loudly. He clears it a second time, and Eugene wonders if the king has a frog stuck in there. Eugene makes a mental note to go looking for Pascal after dinner, because he hasn't seen the little guy all day.

"We were just telling Rapunzel about Prince Charles of Maddoline."

"Prince Who of What?"

"Rapunzel's… fiancé. Prince Charles… who will be arriving here tomorrow."

Eugene blinks. He blinks again. The gears are turning in his head, but the words aren't processing themselves quite right.

"Pardon me, sir. But did I just hear you say Rapunzel's… /fiancé/?"

"We had a meeting with the council this afternoon, and they brought to our attention a decision they've recently made… " The king takes a deep breath, and tries to ignore the guilt rising in his chest as the former thief looks at him like he's spontaneously grown three heads. "…To arrange Rapunzel to marry the prince of an ally kingdom. They made this decision completely behind our backs – Arianna and I knew nothing of it."

"That's a good one, sir… "Eugene is only so bold as to say so because, he reasons, this must be some sort of prank. "Because I was under the impression this entire time that it was pretty clear to everyone that Rapunzel is already taken. You know, by /me/?"

Queen Arianna leans forward, placing a motherly hand on Eugene's forearm in response to the obviously growing panic on the younger man's face.

"We know, Eugene, and we're incredibly sorry. We had no idea about the council's intentions until today. It's completely governmental, and nothing personal." The queen sighs deeply, clearly troubled. "We haven't had much say in Corona's legal direction for the last ten years or so. The council has completely taken over, despite our best efforts. And they've been very…" The queen shakes her head, as if searching for the correct words. "On edge… since the crown was stolen."

Eugene doesn't say anything, just stares at the queen. This isn't personal? Was she serious? It all sounds pretty personal to him, what with the crown comment and all. Obviously Rapunzel, as well as the king and queen, could forgive him for his past identity and believe in his genuine transformation, but the council couldn't?

Eugene turns to Rapunzel suddenly, who's submerged in a trance, as if she's watching everything happen in slow motion – it's like she's stuck in some other faraway dimension, observing the conversation happening before her from the outside in.

"Can we talk for a second?"

The princess nods, but doesn't make a move to leave the table, completely fixated on that faraway place.

"Alone?"

"Oh. Of course."

Rapunzel sets down the fork she had been holding in a balled up fist, smoothing her dress as she stands. The two lovers rise from the table stiffly, the king and queen looking on silently with grimaced faces.

Eugene takes a shocked Rapunzel gently by the arm, leading her under a large willow tree, shading their faces from the light of the setting summer sun. What with the rolling hills in the distance and the fading evening sunlight, it would've been a beautiful scene for the two of them to enjoy together, if it weren't for the gut-wrenching news they'd just received.

Eugene looks at his dear princess for a long time before he can trust himself to speak without transforming into a puddle of pleading tears – and Eugene Fitzherbert doesn't cry.

"Tell me this is some sort of sick joke, and I'm just missing the punchline." Eugene demands, only when their conversation will be out of her parents' earshot.

"I wish it was. But we both know my parents wouldn't do that to us."

"Rapunzel," Eugene speaks slowly, trying his best to be very careful not to take his frustration out on her. "Tell me that I'm just getting old, so my hearing must be going bad, and that I didn't just hear that you're getting MARRIED to some prince you've never met!"

Rapunzel just shakes her head, looking up at him, her eyes welling with tears. She's sorry, she's so sorry, and he can see that, though he knows she has nothing to be sorry for.

"Eugene, I-I had no idea about any of this, I swear!"

What could he say, really? Of course she hadn't known about this, how could she? If the king and queen were telling the truth, they had found out about the council's little arrangement only this afternoon. Eugene sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair, considering his options. He could react with rage, like any normal man would when finding out the love of their life was about to be unexpectedly married to another man.

Or he could comfort her, because she was clearly in just as much shock as he was.

"I know you didn't."

Rapunzel stares at her bare feet, tears falling to meet them there in the grass. The sight is enough to soften Eugene's heart completely, and sends a deep anger ripping through him, all at once. Mostly, he's angry with himself. After all, if he hadn't been a thief, the council wouldn't be out to get him.

"Come here."

He takes Rapunzel in his arms, and they rock together under the weeping willow as she cries, and Eugene wills himself not to weep, too.

Queen Arianna and King Frederic watch from afar as their beloved daughter and the man they'd grown to think of as a son, exchange heated words back and forth, before eventually falling together in a tearful embrace. The queen's face twists painfully as she looks on, watching as Eugene pushes his hand into the sobbing princess's hair, cradling her head tightly to his chest. Queen Arianna swallows back tears of her own, completely distraught.

* * *

"We've devastated them, Frederic."

"I know, dear."

"What are we going to do? What will /they/ do? They're in love. I've never seen two people so attached at the hip, they can't survive this! How could we let the council finalize something so catastrophic without our consent, something that concerns /our/ daughter?"

"I don't know. Frankly, dear, we have been losing our grip on this kingdom, especially since last year. They'll just… have to find a way to live with this, I suppose."

But the queen won't accept that, not so quickly.

"There was a time when we had to be separated when we were young and in love, and I remember that I felt like dying every day that we were apart. And you never had to watch me marry someone else. You know how Rapunzel is. She feels everything so deeply. I love that about her but… it's why I'm so afraid for her in this world. She loves that man with a love that is completely unconditional, and I have a feeling that his love for her is the same. This will absolutely destroy her."

"That's what I'm afraid of, also. But I'm also afraid there isn't much more we can do. We tried to make a case for Eugene this afternoon when the council gave their decision. I know in my heart that he's a changed man, a man who's good for her, good for this kingdom, even. But we cannot expect everyone to see it that way. He has done many things that some simply cannot turn a blind eye to. If you'd told me a year ago that I'd be defending the man who stole our kidnapped daughter's crown, I would've laughed, but that's what happened. He's changed, Arianna, for Rapunzel. I believe that, but unfortunately, the council does not."

"I can't believe that after a year of Eugene living here in the palace, they still have no faith in him. How much more can he prove himself? There must be something more we can say, or do. I'll do anything to fix this! I can't just stand by and watch her heart be broken."

"I'm not sure there is, but I suppose it's worth trying, for her. I'll call for a meeting of the council first thing in the morning."

* * *

"Blondie, Sunshine, umm… you know, I'm not so sure it'll help our case to storm into the meeting unexpected, crossbows blazing –"

Rapunzel, who had undoubtedly woken up on the murderous side of the bed this morning, whirs on Eugene, and if he's being honest, the look in her eyes scares the crap out of him. She'd spent the majority of the past night pacing the length of his small bedroom over and over again. Eugene had watched how the sorrow and fear she'd been harboring the evening before, had turned into pure rage toward the council by morning.

The heated princess reaches forward, grabbing at Eugene's vest, pulling him down so that he's forced to her level.

"Eugene, this is our chance to change the council's mind, maybe our /only/ chance to change their minds. So buck up. If we can convince them that /you/ are the 'appropriate match' for me, or whatever my dad called it, then I won't have to marry this Prince Charles guy!"

"Honestly, Raps, would it really be so bad? I mean, there's Eugene, and then there's a /prince/." Cassandra lifts both hands in the air, as if balancing them on a scale, placing one clearly higher than the other. "You have the choice between an idiotic, freeloading windbag, and a prince. Seems like a pretty obvious decision to me."

"/Hey/! I am NOT a freeloader!"

Rapunzel's eyes narrow further, this time directed toward her lady-in-waiting, and she lets go of the bit of Eugene's vest that she'd crumpled in her fists.

"Are you seriously suggesting that I marry a man I've never even met, Cassandra?"

"Well, you somehow fell in love with this bozo after knowing him for like, two days, so –"

Rapunzel looks at Cassandra like she hopes her best friend will spontaneously combust. Cassandra lets her hands fall to her sides, trying to hold back a laugh. Of course, she cares about her closest friend and the stressful situation at hand, but it's difficult for Cassandra to imagine not taking the opportunity to break up with Eugene.

"No, no you're right. Please, proceed on your warpath."

"We've got your back, Princess!" Lance murmurs, still wearing his guard uniform, as he'd just been relieved from the night shift rotation. He'd run into the tense trio in the hallway on their way to the meeting only a few moments before.

With Eugene, Lance, and Cassandra in tow, Rapunzel pushes through the heavy doors that lead to the council meeting that King Frederic had called to order only five minutes ago. It's apparent immediately that the king and queen are already submerged in a heated, round table debate with the rest of the council, most of whom are men in their upper 60s and 70s, all of which are clearly balding, losing all sense of hearing, or both.

"Rapunzel, sweetheart, this is a private meeting –"

Queen Arianna eyes her daughter's entourage: the loyal, assumedly heartbroken boyfriend, the lady-in-waiting with an endless chip on her shoulder, and the burly former thief who mostly stuck around for the sake of his lifelong friend and a paycheck.

"Really? Because I think this actually has a lot to do with me, Mom."

Rapunzel strides to the front of the room where Mr. Sinclair, the head of the council and her father's most trusted legal advisor, prepares for the tongue lashing he just knows he's about to receive from a naïve teenager in the name of young love.

Eugene, Lance, and Cassandra trickle in behind, leaning against the back wall of the large room designated for meetings like this one. Meetings that are called to determine the future of Corona. As much as they hate to admit it, all three of them secretly enjoy when this overly-bold side of Rapunzel makes its rare appearance, and they know they're about to be in for quite the show.

"Hello, Mr. Sinclair."

"Hello, Your Highness. I see you'd like to join our meeting this morning."

"You know, I would, considering the topic of discussion is my arranged marriage that I knew absolutely nothing about until yesterday." The princess smiles at the older man sweetly, with the kind of smile that Eugene immediately recognizes as 'If you piss me off, I'll give you seven concussions with a frying pan.'

Not that he would know from personal experience or anything.

"Prince Charles of Maddoline is a wonderful fit for you, Princess, a wonderful fit for this kingdom. I ask you to please think of your people," The head of the council's eyes dart to the back of the room briefly, where Eugene is standing, arms crossed in quiet observation. "Before you think of your… personal desires."

"Don't guilt me into a marriage with someone I've never met by telling me to 'think of my people.' My people are just fine. And they'll still be just fine if I'm married to Eugene."

Mr. Sinclair sighs, pushing away the papers scattered on the table before him, folding his hands with a small smile, as if to snarkily imply that she has his full attention after barging into the meeting uninvited.

"Princess, if you'll forgive me, I'm going to be completely blunt with you for a moment, if only to avoid dragging this meeting out for much longer than necessary. Corona law strictly states that a royal family member /cannot/ and /will not, under any foreseeable circumstances, marry someone of non-royal status, let alone a /wanted thief/. Who, might I add, wreaked absolute havoc throughout your kingdom for several years!"

Eugene, well, the very small part of him that still operates as Flynn Rider, can't help but be a little proud of himself. He'd wreaked absolute havoc, alright. Good times.

Rapunzel's response to the comment isn't so mild.

"Then excuse me, if I'm blunt with you for a moment, Mr. Sinclair. That 'wanted thief' is the only reason I'm even standing here right now. Without him, I'd still be /trapped in a tower/. You realize that, don't you?"

"Your boyfriend's act of heroism isn't lost on me, Your Highness. And as a father myself, I understand the caliber of Mr. Fitzherbert's contribution to Corona in returning you to us safely, after so many years of waiting and wondering. This is why the council has been as lenient as to not have him thrown into prison. Or, honestly, have him executed for his extensive list of crimes as originally planned. We have been turning the other cheek for the entirety of a year, but we have come to a mutual consensus that a marriage between yourself and the Prince of Maddoline is the best decision for this kingdom."

Eugene thinks about the day he'd almost been hung, the day he'd actually died in that tower, and shivers a little at the haunting memory. He kicks himself now, considering the fact that if he'd never been a thief, it wouldn't be so hard to be in a relationship with Rapunzel.

Then again, if he hadn't been a thief, he might have never met her in the first place, and that alternative reality sounds much worse.

"Regardless, Princess, the law is the law, and even if Mr. Fitzherbert had never stolen a thing from this palace or from the innocent people of Corona, he is still not of royal blood. You are of marrying age, and soon enough, the people will be questioning why a successor to the crown has not been born in /nineteen years/."

"So what, you don't punish people for their crimes anymore, but you'll punish them for the things totally beyond their control? Like the name they're born with?"

"Rapunzel… "King Frederic warns, rubbing his brow stressfully. The last thing he needs right now is a full-on showdown between his most trusted advisor of twenty-five years, and his spirited, passionate daughter.

"I think you've done enough, Dad." Rapunzel retorts.

And by that, she means that he's done absolutely nothing at all. The princess refocuses her glare on the council head.

"And if I might add, Mr. Sinclair, there is more to life than providing 'successors' for the crown. I might be of marrying age, but I refuse to marry a man that I don't love. Or don't even know, for that matter."

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear that, Princess. But if you refuse to comply with the agreement that we have settled upon with the kingdom of Maddoline, by law, I will be forced to strip your parents of any remaining legal authority. And you, of any future legal authority you may have had. In such a situation, I will act as temporary head of the kingdom until the three of you can get your act together."

"Harold, really, is all of this necessary? Mr. Fitzherbert has been an excellent addition to the palace guard, not to mention has helped my daughter through a tremendously difficult time of adjusting to this world. There must be some sort of consideration you can make for that – " King Frederic pleads on his daughter's behalf, but he's cut off by Mr. Sinclair, who's growing more irritated with this outspoken, inexperienced princess by the moment, and the king and queen's clear lack of ability to reign in their daughter.

"Yes, Frederic, you have mentioned that already. And yes, all of this /is/ necessary for this kingdom and for the succession of the crown, and you know it. Corona has had a rough ten years, and we need to do everything we can to rebuild both our economy and our reputation. Letting your daughter marry a thief isn't going to do that. I /have/ considered all of the options, and frankly, the current option does not appeal."

Another pointed look to Eugene before the council head continues on.

"Besides, last I checked, /you/ and the queen signed off on this arrangement when your daughter was a baby. We as the council simply pushed that decision through in due time. So, unless you want to lose the little say you have left in the legal decisions of this kingdom, I would suggest that you don't make a big fuss of this. Arranged marriages happen all the time, and this is a marriage that will greatly benefit Corona and secure its future."

Rapunzel steps forward, registering the information dump.

"Wait, wait a second. You mean, you signed off for me to be forced into an arranged marriage when I was /born/?" Rapunzel turns to her parents, shaking like a leaf in the wind, betrayal set deep in her eyes.

"Sweetheart –"

"I think I'm gonna be sick."

Mr. Sinclair reaches for the gavel resting on the large, round table between him and King Frederic, knocking it against the oak several times. The sound echoes throughout the otherwise silent room, and Rapunzel is sure she's going to throw up any moment.

"Princess Rapunzel of Corona will be married to Prince Charles of Maddoline in no more than three months' time. This meeting is adjourned."

Before Rapunzel has the chance to storm from the room in true, angsty, heartbroken teen fashion, the meeting hall doors swing open, revealing a blonde, starkly dressed young man who appears to be in his early twenties.

"So, are we talking about me?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A little bit shorter of a chapter today, but I have a much longer one that I will be posting immediately after. Two chapters in one day! Woo hoo! I've been on a writing roll lately. I hope you will stick around, because the story will be escalating soon, and I'm really excited about what's to come for Rapunzel, Eugene, and their new 'friend.' Enjoy!
> 
> You know the drill: I don't own Tangled.

**Chapter 3: Totally a Blonde Kind of Guy**

"So, are we talking about me?"

The blonde man, dressed in a perfectly pressed, navy and gold outfit, steps into the meeting hall, a smirk plastered across his face. He immediately makes his way across the room to where Rapunzel is standing, smiling all the while. The princess stares back tentatively, unsure of how to react to the young man's sudden entrance. When he reaches her, he takes Rapunzel's hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

Eugene looks on, wondering if now would be too soon to deck the guy.

"You must be Princess Rapunzel. It is an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you're even lovelier than Mr. Sinclair let on."

"That's Prince Charles." Lance leans over to whisper to Eugene, a little too loudly. Stealth had never been Lance's strong suit as a thief. The prince turns away from Rapunzel, surveying an unimpressed Cassandra and Eugene, before quirking an eyebrow at Lance.

"I am. And aren't you the guard that I passed a while ago, in the hallway? You were having a sword fight with a… statue?"

"That's me." Lance replies, not embarrassed in the slightest for having been caught in battle with an inanimate object.

"I knew you looked familiar." The prince looks Lance up and down. "What was your name again? Landon? Ladd?"

"Lance."

"Right! Lance."

"I also double as a bellhop. I'll go get your luggage for you! Do you happen to have any valuables with you? Gold, jewelry, diamonds, anything of the sort?"

"Shouldn't you be patrolling the palace grounds or something? I've heard downright awful things about the security in this place." King Frederic swallows a scoff at the low-key insult, though he knows the prince isn't completely wrong. "Actually, I heard that some guy simply came in through the roof and took the princess's crown!"

Mr. Sinclair rubs his temples, wondering if he'd made a grave mistake. He'd signed up for a booming economy and an alliance with the kingdom of Maddoline that would hopefully prevail for generations to come.

What he hadn't signed up for was a teenage soap opera to unfold before his very eyes.

"That guy would be me." Eugene pushes off from the wall and steps forward, smiling at the prince curtly, sticking out a nonchalant hand. "Eugene Fitzherbert."

The prince slowly takes Eugene's hand and shakes it. Shock, and perhaps a slight twinge of being impressed, brims his bright blue eyes, which have grown large in surprise.

"/You/ are the one responsible for that?" Prince Charles looks around nervously, as if expecting a fleet of guards to swarm into the room and haul Eugene away, but he continues on when nothing happens. "Well, I must say, I've never seen a wanted criminal sitting in on a council meeting before." The blonde prince shrugs. "Then again, what do I know? Maybe your ways here in Corona are simply different than my own accustoms."

Eugene's eye twitches, and he dares the younger man to question his right to be here any further. King Frederic pinches his brow, and the look on the queen's face is a cross between constipation and the fighting back of tears.

Rapunzel cuts in, placing a hand on Eugene's bicep, rubbing it soothingly, just once.

"Eugene isn't a wanted criminal anymore. He's much more than that to this family." Rapunzel steps closer to Eugene, hoping her love doesn't let his slightly dramatic side loose on the newly arrived prince – at least, not in front of the council.

Charles' eyes dart between the young lovers, between Rapunzel's soothing gesture and the soft smile that she receives for it, the gears in his head visibly turning.

"Wait, wait. Are the two of you... together, or something?"

"Well… "Rapunzel begins, but Eugene quickly interjects, eager to set the record straight with this stuffy, arrogant prince. The guy clearly had an ego the size of Corona. And his hair wasn't even nice enough to explain away a big ego – at least Eugene had the hair to pull it off.

"Actually, yes, we are. Happily together." Eugene's eyes darken, and he reaches over, making a show of grasping Rapunzel's hip and pulling her into his side. "At least, we were, until you showed up."

Prince Charles raises his hands in a mock, 'Don't shoot!' gesture.

"I apologize! I didn't know I would be intruding." Mr. Sinclair receives a pointed look from the prince, but the bored expression on the older man's face remains intact. "Your council simply told me that the princess was mine for the taking. That there would be no potential hiccups in our engagement."

"The council said that, huh?" Rapunzel crosses her arms, shooting a venomous glare at Mr. Sinclair.

"Well, buddy, you're looking at potential hiccup number one."

"I see..." Prince Charles looks Eugene up and down before continuing, as if he were drinking in the other man, assessing the competition. "Well, regardless, my title inevitably holds much more weight, meaning the council will most likely overturn any request you have to remain with the princess. We made a legal deal, after all. Besides, it would be absolutely unorthodox to allow a criminal to marry a royal!"

"As previously mentioned, I'm not so much a criminal anymore."

"Listen," Charles leans forward with a sigh. "I was promised a princess of marrying age. Not a princess already in a relationship with /someone else/."

Mr. Sinclair finally steps in, tired of this never-ending escapade. If he were smart at all, he would bench Frederic and Arianna from all legal duties until they could get their daughter to stop being so incredibly difficult.

"She isn't. As agreed upon before your arrival, Prince Charles, you and Rapunzel will be married in three months or less. And that is final."

* * *

"I can't believe this bullshit!"

"Euuugene…"

"I'm the one who has a thing for brunettes. You can tell he's totally a blonde kind of guy!"

"How can you tell?"

Rubbing Eugene's tense shoulders, Rapunzel questions him curiously. The princess often wonders how the former thief knows so many things – he always seems to have an answer for every one of her questions, silly or not. But, she supposes, he had led a rather interesting life before meeting her.

"Guys know these things about one another, trust me. It's kind of like a sixth sense." Eugene taps his temple and Rapunzel is unsure of whether he's serious or not.

"Okay, mister /sixth sense/." Rapunzel leans over his shoulder so she can look Eugene in the face, but doesn't stop massaging his shoulders. "What's my type?"

"Well, for starters, you like dashing men with fabulous hair, a great sense of humor, and an endless supply of bravery."

"So… you?" She responds with a cute little giggle that sends a shiver down his spine.

"Exactly!"

"I must like men with big egos, too, then."

"Come on, I'm serious. I am the first man you ever met, after all, Blondie. That has to count for something in shaping your vision of the perfect partner."

"You are the perfect man for me." Rapunzel confirms with a deep sigh, the conversation taking a grim turn that Eugene had hoped to void, if only in the name of delusion. After all, ignorance is bliss, and if he could blissfully pretend that the only person he'd ever truly loved wasn't getting married to someone else in three months, maybe he'd be okay.

"I can't believe I have to marry that guy. He doesn't even look like you. Or sound like you." Rapunzel's green eyes grow tearful and her bottom lip wobbles at the thought of having to be with someone so starkly different from Eugene. "He doesn't seem to be anything like you at all."

The princess supposes it would probably be harder to marry Prince Charles if he /was/ anything like Eugene. Then, he'd only be a constant reminder of her true love, but it doesn't make her feel much better about the whole ordeal.

"I know! It's a shame, really, for anyone not to be like me." Eugene places a thumb to Rapunzel's trembling bottom lip, eliciting a small, sad smile. "But there must be something we can do about this marriage thing, even if the council refuses to budge. Maybe I'll go out into the village, find him some blonde girl –"

"Eugene, you do remember there was a time, not all that long ago, when /I/ had blonde hair, don't you? You still call me Blondie." Rapunzel points out, referring to the adoring nickname he'd used for her since the day they'd met.

"That's different." Eugene reasons. "You used to be blonde, but you were really always meant to be brunette, like your mom. And you would've been all along, if the queen hadn't gotten sick before you were born and drank that weird flower stuff that made Gothel go all," Eugene makes a face that resembles a silent scream and a haggard old woman, "And your hair have all those magical healing powers."

Rapunzel considers this for a moment, and Eugene can't help but smile at the faces she makes when she's deep in thought.

"But if I'd always had brown, non-magical hair, I would've always been the princess, and I never would've met you."

Eugene tilts his head at her, before relaxing again under her gentle touch. She was good at giving massages, and he was good at receiving them.

"I'm not so sure I believe that. I'd like to think that, even in another life, we'd always find each other. I mean, let's be honest, I probably still would've tried to steal the crown, lost princess or not. Anyway, it doesn't really matter, because I was able to prove my undying love to you when I cut your hair in a heroic moment of sacrifice. I don't think I'll ever top that one on the scale of romantic gestures. Besides, I like the way you look now even more than the first time I saw you."

This comment makes Rapunzel giggle a little in disbelief, only because she'd spent so many years believing that people would only love her for the magical qualities of her hair, not for who she was as a person. The way Eugene loved her, for her was like a breath of fresh air, but Rapunzel still laid awake at night sometimes, wondering if he wished she still had her blonde hair. Maybe he'd liked her better that way. Maybe she'd looked prettier before.

"You do?"

"Absolutely." Eugene reaches back to run a hand through her short, brown hair. "It's so much more grab-able now, and I don't have to worry about you tripping all over it. Or worse, having to worry about someone kidnapping you for it. That was a nightmare." Eugene makes a face at the reference to the Stabbington's, thinking about the way he'd confronted them in prison that day on his way to the gallows, the pure rage that had rushed through this veins at the thought of anyone hurting Rapunzel. "Besides, this hair really compliments your features. I did a great job with your haircut, considering the fact that I was, you know, weak and dying on the floor."

The former thief shivers dramatically, remembering the horror of that day in full detail – how he'd almost lost Rapunzel to that wretched woman, and how he'd almost lost his own life to save hers. Eugene would do it again in a heartbeat if he had to, die for Rapunzel, but he hoped he'd never have to. He kind of liked living, even though life sort of sucked at the moment. Then again, it felt like the same thing was happening all over again now, only he wasn't getting stabbed in the gut by an actual knife.

Just stabbed in the back by a council he honestly couldn't really blame for not liking him.

"But back to the matter at hand. There's /no way/ this Charles guy would ever provide such an act of selflessness! I mean, c'mon, he doesn't even have any facial hair! He doesn't look a day over sixteen!"

Rapunzel can't help but laugh at the insinuation that Eugene's facial hair and his bravery were directly correlated.

"You know, Eugene, not everyone can have superior facial hair like you."

"Well, he should try a little harder." Eugene grumbles under his breath.

"Besides, my mom said he's twenty-one. Almost twenty-two, actually."

"Well, you're only nineteen, barely. And I don't want you marrying an older man!"

"Eugene… you're /twenty-five/. That's kind of an unfair double standard, don't you think?"

"That's completely different."

"How is it different? I'm a lot younger than you than I am younger than him."

"The difference is," Eugene lets out a sigh of his own, growing serious. He turns to face her, pulling the princess he loves so much into his lap, enveloping her hands within his own. "I love you, Rapunzel. And it's going to kill me if I have to lose you to this guy. I don't want to watch you marry someone else."

Because, if he was being honest, Eugene had been planning to propose, and soon. A year ago, he never would have imagined that he would ever be in the headspace to commit to a lifetime with anyone but himself, but that's all he wanted with Rapunzel – the rest of his life. Now, he'd be kicking himself for the rest of his life for not asking sooner.

Then again, would it have even mattered if he had? Hindsight revealed with twenty-twenty focus, Eugene figures that the council probably would've just found some way to keep their union from fully happening, even if he had asked before the whole arrange marriage mess.

"Trust me, Eugene, I want all of this even less than you do." Rapunzel speaks with a raw emotion that cuts Eugene deep, the tears forming in her eyes causing her throat to feel thick, making it hard to speak. "I love you, so much more than you will ever know. But there has to be something we can do to get around this marriage. There has to be."

There wasn't.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello, friends, and welcome to another installment of 'Killing Me Slowly.' If you're into the whole 'ball gowns and chandeliers' aesthetic like I am, this next chapter might be right up your ally. Warning: there will be a bit of a time jump, but please bear with me.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Tangled. Although, come to think of it, Tangled basically owns me. And now, let the drama ensue.

**Chapter 4: Wake Me Up When November Ends**

_**THREE MONTHS LATER** _

"Remind me of why we have to go to this thing again?"

Eugene shrugs into the deep blue jacket he'd worn for Rapunzel's coronation, probably the nicest, most expensive article of clothing he'll ever own, and considers how that day feels like it belongs to another lifetime. Or maybe a figment of his imagination, when his life was relatively normal and happy.

"I'm only going for Rapunzel, because she asked me to be there. And you're coming with me, because they gave me a plus one, and I'm not about to deal with Prince Charles," Eugene sneers the name. "Alone."

Lance had all but gagged when Eugene had told him earlier that day that they would be attending a ball – a ball thrown by the king and queen to honor their daughter and Prince Charles' impending marriage, to be exact. In the last nearly three months, Eugene's relationship with the prince had gone off the tracks long before it truly had the chance to get on them. Their egos inflated, fighting over the same girl, the two men may as well have been oil and water.

"I understand that. What I don't understand is why I have to wear this stupid outfit." Lance tugs distastefully at his collar, which is already suffocating him, and it's only been ten minutes. He's dressed similarly to Eugene, in his best boots, nicest pair of pants, and a matching maroon overcoat.

Eugene stops fixing his hair in the mirror long enough to give his friend a look that says, 'Quit complaining, because the love of your life isn't getting married in a week.'

"Look, there's probably going to be some fancy alcohol at this thing, and a lot of young, royal girls who are itching to enter their stage of rebellion. Maybe you could find yourself a girl /not/ from the bar tonight?"

"Hey! What's wrong with the girls I find at the bar? You found the princess in a sketchy ass tower, remember? With an evil witch who tried to kill you and pretended to be her mother for her /magical hair/ that healed you back to life?"

"Why do you always have to bring that up?"

"C'mon, buddy." Lance pulls at Eugene's jacket, turning him away from the mirror so they can face one another. He places each hand on both of Eugene's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Think of Flynn Rider! He never would've stayed in one place for so long, for some girl, just to watch her be married off to someone else. You should've known this kind of thing was bound to happen, sooner or later. I mean, she's a princess. Flynn wouldn't stand around, all pathetic and butt hurt. He'd go in search of a new adventure!"

If Eugene was being honest, he wasn't feeling very adventurous as of late; to be more precise, he wasn't feeling much of anything at all.

"I'm not that person anymore, Lance." Eugene gives his friend a hard look with arms crossed over his chest, slightly offended. "And Rapunzel isn't just /some/ girl. She's /the/ girl, the best I'm ever going to get. You've been here long enough to know that."

"Okay, /Eugene/. But you can't lie to me. I know your old persona's been calling your name. I know you've been itching to steal something, at least once. I mean, it's been a year. And probably even longer since you've gotten /laid/. And even longer than that since we've done a job together, just the two of us. You may have been out of commission for a while, but there's still plenty to steal, and still plenty of other fish in the sea."

"Okay, /Arnwaldo/. And what do you suggest we do? Resort back to our lives of crime? Because I think we've got it pretty good here." Eugene pauses, grimacing slightly. "Aside from the whole arranged marriage dilemma."

"That's actually exactly what I was going to suggest we do. I mean, think about it! Two bachelors, on the run, enough money to get that private island you always wanted!"

The island he'd /wanted/, emphasis on the past tense. There were many other things Eugene cared about more now, bigger things, like finding a way to get his princess back, or maybe just trying not to get thrown out of the palace by the council. Eugene couldn't lie, at least not to himself. Part of him wanted to do something insane: get blackout drunk, steal something really important (two things he hadn't done in many months), or grab Rapunzel, leave the palace and never, ever come back.

But he knew he couldn't do that, nor would Eugene ever be so evil as to take the once-lost princess from her parents for a second time, or from her kingdom that had fallen head-over-heels in love with her. He was selfish with her, but not that selfish.

Which meant Eugene was left with two incredibly unappealing choices: leave the kingdom with Lance, returning to his thieving ways, or stay here in the palace with Rapunzel to endure this shitstorm for who knows how long. Although the first option sounded admittedly a little enticing, Eugene knew the second option was the right thing to do, at least until he figured out his next move. Besides, he didn't have the emotional strength to call it quits on his relationship with Rapunzel quite yet, despite the looming presence of Prince Charles.

Eugene still loved Rapunzel, after all, with a love that was deep and desperate, and if he was going to go down, he was going to go down swinging. She was the truest thing he'd ever known, the closest Eugene would ever get to a soulmate – if soulmates were more than folklore and really had some truth to them, Eugene wasn't sure. Regardless, he wasn't ready to let that go, because Eugene knew he'd never find anything that would even closely replicate loving her.

Which meant staying in the palace to help her through this horrible time, even if it would only hurt Eugene to stay.

It had already been almost three months since the Prince of Maddoline had arrived and begun living in the palace, wreaking absolute havoc where Eugene was concerned. The council, completely unwilling to budge, in spite of the princess's lengthy pleas, wanted Rapunzel to have a chance to 'get to know' her fiancé before they all but shoved her down the aisle. Preparations were already far underway, and Eugene had heard in passing just that morning, as two of the maids gossiped while he was on guard duty, that Rapunzel had a final dress fitting the other day. Apparently, the dress was breathtaking. And when Eugene pictured Rapunzel in a white dress that /he/ wouldn't be the one to take off of her, his stomach lurched, and he started to feel a little queasy.

Actually, a lot queasy.

"I can't do that, Lance. I can't up and leave, I changed my /life/ for this girl. I'm not that person who just leaves anymore. Maybe that's the person you used to know me as, but… I have to stay. For her. At least for now."

"Man, I don't know why you're torturing yourself like this. I mean, I /really/ don't get it. It seems like a lot more hurt than its worth, if you ask me. Once the princess is married, they're not going to let you see her at all anymore."

Not like they /had/ been letting him see her lately.

It were as though everyone was doing whatever they could to keep Eugene far away from Rapunzel in the recent weeks. What with the wedding preparations and the iron fist of the council, Eugene had spoken to Rapunzel maybe a dozen times in the last twelve weeks, and mostly just in passing. She visited him in the guard's quarters in the evenings when she could, but only for a few minutes at a time before Cassandra would swoop in. She would remind the princess of how much trouble she would be in if she were to be caught alone with Eugene, in his bedroom, as an engaged woman. So, they would say goodbye with a brief kiss on the lips, and then he wouldn't be able to see her for another week or so.

Eugene could feel his princess drifting away, running through his fingers like water. He knew it wasn't her fault, any of it, but being away from her for such long periods of time was driving him insane. He'd gotten so used to being with her every day for an entire year, and Eugene felt like he was operating on low functionality without her. He was only going through the mandatory motions now: work, sleep, sometimes eat, and repeat. There was nothing to be excited about in his life anymore. Rapunzel wasn't there to eagerly show Eugene the latest painting she'd done of Maximus and Pascal, to comment on how good the warm sun felt on her face, or to remind him that life was /so/ much better without shoes. The thought of never hearing her say such things to him again was incredibly depressing.

The council was slowly but surely dragging Rapunzel from him, and the thought of her completely disappearing from his life, after all they'd been through together, was enough to make Eugene want to jump from the nearest balcony, as morbid as it was. Eugene often wondered what he really had to live for if he didn't have her. He'd completely turned his life around for her, after all, and Eugene wasn't sure if he even knew who he was anymore when Rapunzel wasn't around. He was alive right now /because/ of her. He felt pathetic for it, that he'd let a girl basically determine his identity after years of being Flynn Rider, who hadn't been defined by anyone but himself, but it was reality. Sure, Eugene had Lance, and he had his job as a guard. That gave him some purpose, but not much. Eugene was pretty sure that would run out soon enough too, if the council had anything to do with it.

It was as if everything they put their hands on, died.

"No one's holding you here with a gun to your head, Lance. You're more than welcome to return to your old life, hopping from prison to prison, if that's what you really want. But I'm staying." Frustrated with his friend's honest words, Eugene turns back to the mirror, straightening his collar.

Lance was right, in a sense, at least about what Flynn Rider would have done in such a sticky situation as this one. If Rapunzel were any other woman he'd known in the past, Eugene surely would've been on the first ferry out of Corona, disappearing into the foggy night, selfishly unwilling to work things out. That's what he did – he left people high and dry, just like he'd abandoned the Staggington's to have the crown all to himself.

Then again, that decision wasn't the best example, because it had led Eugene to Rapunzel.

Regardless, his past self would have been unwilling to fight for anything that didn't directly benefit his cause – that was what /Flynn Rider/ would have done. If Rapunzel were anyone else, he wouldn't have considered her feelings at all – after all, he'd left Staylan at the altar, though that was ages ago, and a completely different situation. Eugene cringed every time he thought about it, only because he'd almost married someone who wasn't Rapunzel, and that thought made him sick to his stomach.

It was a testament in itself to how much Eugene had changed, that he was willing to stay in the midst of Rapunzel's wedding to another man, if only not to stress her out more during such a difficult time. Because he loves her, and the thought of her being upset matters more now than how upset he feels.

"I think you're making a big mistake, buddy, and I wish I could convince you otherwise. But whatever you decide, I'm sticking by you. Only to make sure you don't kill yourself or something. Or worse, that you don't murder the prince."

Eugene thinks for a long moment, considering that Prince Charles 'mysteriously' disappearing doesn't sound so bad. He turns back to Lance, appreciative that his friend is at least trying to make him laugh.

"Lance, have you ever been in love? Like, really in love?"

"Absolutely not. I've seen some beautiful women in my day, don't get me wrong. But I've never taken the full plunge, felt the big 'L' word, and I'm not sure that I ever will. That stuff's for suckers."

"Then it makes sense that you don't understand why I'm staying. And you're right, I am a sucker. A really, really big sucker."

* * *

No more than an hour later, Eugene is standing with Lance in a crowd of people in the palace's massive ballroom, used for celebratory events such as this one. Just like everyone else in the room, Eugene is eager for the princess's big entrance. The music starts up and she appears at the top of the long staircase which leads into the ballroom from the upper level of the palace, and Eugene feels his breath catching in his throat.

Rapunzel adorns a brilliant emerald dress, satin to the floor and gracefully flowing behind her as King Frederic escorts her down the marble staircase. He smiles down at his beloved daughter, patting her arm lovingly as they walk. Eugene swears King Frederic's smile looks sadder than it does happy, but what does he know? He supposes, Rapunzel's relationship had been incredibly stained with her parents in the weeks leading up to this moment, for the role they'd played in her unexpected marriage. Regardless, they were still a family that loved one another very much, and Eugene understood that Rapunzel couldn't stay angry with her parents forever.

Every head in the ballroom has turned, memorized in a moment by their princess — every set of eyes in the room is upon her, including Prince Charles', much to Eugene's dismay. Rapunzel catches Eugene's eye in the crowd with a little smile, and for a split second, he feels completely at peace, forgetting that anything aside from her, and the way that she looks so beautiful right now, could possibly matter.

Eugene's smile fades when King Frederic reaches the end of the staircase, where Charles is patiently waiting for them. The king passes his daughter off to the younger man with a short kiss to her cheek. Eugene knows that Rapunzel will have to spend most of the night with the wretched prince as they reinstate themselves as an engaged, soon-to-be-married couple into Coronan royal society.

But that's okay, because Eugene is happy just to look at her for a whole night.

After an hour or two of enjoying an array of good food and some kind of fancy red wine that he can't remember the name of, Eugene splits away from Lance, promising his friend that he'll find him again later. Knowing Lance, he won't have a problem mingling with the many young women attending the ball, so Eugene doesn't feel so guilty about abandoning him for a while. Eugene hopes to find Rapunzel, if only to hear her sweet voice for a few moments.

He does locate her, rather quickly considering the overly-crowded ballroom, talking politely with a few expensively dressed girls who look to be around her same age. Eugene walks up to the conversation confidently, smiling down at her with a simple bow, only because she just looks so darn pretty. The girls surrounding her don't hold a candle to Rapunzel, at least, not from his biased point of view.

"Hi, Blondie."

"Hello, Eugene." The princess smiles back, and the girls huddled around her sigh, batting their eyelashes at him, though he barely even notices their presence.

It's just her, and only her, and no one could ever compare.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but do you think I could steal you away for a dance?"

He extends a hand to her, trying his best to be smooth, not wanting to disappoint Flynn Rider in this moment.

"Of course you can steal me away, Eugene." Rapunzel replies, a slight blush of pink growing on her cheeks. He loves making her blush.

"Excuse me." She nods politely to the group of girls, who are already whispering and giggling amongst themselves, looking Eugene up and down.

She places her small hand in his, and Eugene leads Rapunzel to the dance floor, wrapping her in his arms, reveling in the feeling. It had been so long since he'd touched her last – since he'd kissed her, since he'd smelled the lavender scented soap she always used, since he'd lovingly held her face in his hands.

"You look… absolutely beautiful, Blondie." He whispers in her ear, which only causes her blush to deepen.

"You look handsome, yourself, Eugene. I recognize your outfit."

"Yeah? You like it?"

"I do." She giggles a little, remembering how she'd accidentally knocked a glass of wine onto the same pants Eugene is wearing tonight, on the night of her big coronation dinner all those months ago. "It looks like you got the stain out."

"Yeah, I did, thankfully. You never know when you'll need an outfit to wear to your girlfriend's marriage celebration."

He'd meant it as a joke, trying to keep things light-hearted for her, but Rapunzel sighs deeply, her face growing serious. Eugene twirls her under his arm, and she spins away from him for a moment, before he pulls her back into his tight embrace.

"You know this isn't how I wanted things to be, Eugene." She speaks so quietly, he can barely make out her words above the sound of the music and the loud laughs of the many guests around them, most of whom are at least five or six alcoholic beverages deep. "I've missed you lately, so much."

"I know, I know." Eugene swallows, willing himself not to get emotional, not in front of all these people. "But let's not talk about that right now. Let's just enjoy one interrupted moment together."

"Okay." She whispers, tucking her head under his chin, as they sway together to the sound of the live music.

The moment lasts about ten seconds.

"Excuse me, Princess. May I cut in?"

"No, you may not."

The uptight Prince Charles glowers at Eugene, and the two men look one another up and down with dull eyes and deep frowns. He really couldn't have given them one dance?

"I was asking the princess."

Rapunzel looks around the room, her grip tightening slightly on Eugene's shoulders, and he can tell that she's nervous. Everyone is watching, everyone's eyes trained curiously upon the trio. Every guest in the ballroom, her parents, even Mr. Sinclair – everyone is curious of who Rapunzel will choose to dance with — her soon-to-be husband, or Corona's most notorious ex-thief.

Everyone had heard the story. The story of how the infamous Flynn Rider had saved the lost princess from a tower, fallen in love with her, and had been allowed to stay in the palace despite his extensive list of crimes. There had also been whispers, whispers all over the kingdom, about the prince that had arrived from Maddoline – the prince who had wreaked havoc on the princess's love story. Most of the whispers stated that Prince Charles was very good-looking, smart, and best of all, incredibly rich. Which would only benefit Coronan society once the marriage was finalized.

Many of the village people wondered why their princess had put up such a fight against the idea of marrying Prince Charles. It would help the current financial situation of her kingdom, after all. Besides, doesn't everyone /want/ a prince?

Then again, most of the girls who saw Eugene around the kingdom understood Rapunzel's apprehension to marry Prince Charles completely. After all, Eugene was heartbreakingly handsome, in a more rugged, bad-boy-turned-good-guy kind of way.

Everyone /also/ wants a man who's willing to change for them, and that was exactly what Flynn Rider, or more accurately, Eugene Fitzherbert had done for the princess.

"I suppose one dance couldn't hurt." Rapunzel says finally, sheepishly, looking to Eugene, trying her best to ignore the look of disappointment in his eyes. All she'd done lately was disappoint him, it seemed.

"I'll find you." Rapunzel whispers in his ear quietly before allowing Charles to wrap an arm around her waist, spinning her away from Eugene to the time of the music. He's left standing there alone on the dancefloor, feeling like something sacred was just taken from him.

Maybe this is how all those people felt when Eugene had stolen something from them, something of value to their lives. Ironic.

Leaving the ballroom, desperate for some fresh air, Eugene steps out into the main hallway, where some guests are milling about. Everyone is talking, laughing, and sipping on expensive champagne, as if life is something to be celebrated right now.

Idiots. Delusional idiots.

Eugene leans against the wall for a few minutes, people watching, listening in on a conversation about the expensive dresses worn that night by Corona high society, custom-made by some of the most famous dressmakers from all around the world. That conversation is incredibly boring, so Eugene scoots over to a group of dapperly-dressed men in their mid-twenties, who are probably the sons of council members or something. Great, a new generation of people who can ruin his life. In his eavesdropping, Eugene hears one of the men make a comment about how good the princess looks tonight.

Finally, a conversation Eugene can get behind.

"Fitzherbert!"

Eugene, distracted by the nearby conversations, only rolls his eyes when he finally notices the pompously dressed prince that's stalking toward him.

"I will say, I was really surprised to see /you/ here tonight."

Prince Charles stands before Eugene, a smug look on his face.

"I was invited. By Rapunzel." Eugene does his best to appear as bored as he possibly can, not in the mood for the prince's tantalizing.

"Ah, well. I suppose, if I've noticed anything about our princess in the last few months, it's that she does have a hard time letting go of things. She's always looking for some sort of charity case, isn't she? Sweet girl, though."

Eugene pushes himself off the wall, stepping closer to the arrogant prince. He wills himself not to ball his hands into fists at Charles' comments, but it's not working so well.

"You know, she didn't really want to dance with you. It was a pity dance."

"Or maybe she's starting to warm up to me, despite how much you'd hate for that to happen. In case you've forgotten, this is a ball celebrating /my/ marriage to her, Fitzherbert. My marriage that's only a week away?"

"You know what..." Eugene almost chuckles, shaking his head. "You're not even worth it."

He turns to leave, but Prince Charles' voices continues to rupture his ears, and Eugene is sure he's going to have a fully developed migraine by the time the night is over.

"Oh, but I am. And Rapunzel will come to her senses about that. With time." Charles concludes with a nonchalant shrug.

It's annoying to Eugene how sure of himself he is. It makes the prince look completely delusional.

"Maybe she'll marry you, because she's literally being /forced/ to. But she'll never love you." The former thief scoffs and turns again to leave, knowing the best thing to do with his consistently rising blood pressure is simply walk away.

Flynn Rider wouldn't have, but Eugene Fitzherbert would, and that's who he would be right now, for her sake. He'd walk away, because Charles isn't worth it. He's not worth even a hair on Rapunzel's perfect head.

"She will. Mark my words, she'll realize what you really are, Fitzherbert: no good. And then she'll realize what I can be for her. She's just a little... naïve right now. I mean, what can you really expect? Given her circumstance, the poor thing. You were the first man she's ever met. Of course she's going to /think/ she loves you."

Eugene whips around, angry.

"How dare you question Rapunzel's intelligence?"

Raising his hands in mock defense, Charles shakes his head.

"Oh, I'm not insulting the princess. Not at all. She's actually quite smart, considering."

_Considering what, that she'd been locked away in a tower for eighteen years?_ Eugene thinks to himself. _That doesn't automatically make her incompetent and an inadequate judge of character._

Charles continues standing on his soapbox, no matter how much Eugene wills him to get down. It had been a long three months, and he'd about had it with the arrogant prince, always making comments about Rapunzel's hair being too short, about the palace not being as big as his own home back in Maddoline, and how it would be best if Rapunzel simply returned to the ally kingdom with him. /That/ would happen over Eugene's (and probably, King Frederic's) dead body. It had been agreed upon by the council and Maddoline's own legal team, that Charles would integrate into Corona society, though he didn't seem convinced that was the best option.

"None of this is /her/ fault. She's simply been brainwashed her whole life. But I'll fix that for her."

"She's not /brainwashed/, not anymore. If anything, she's just trying to send the message that /she doesn't like you/."

For a third, and what he hopes to be the final time, Eugene turns around quickly to leave. But not quite quick enough.

"Well, she must be. Because no one could actually be stupid enough to want a washed-up thief, good for nothing, freeloading orphan like you."

Okay, so Charles knew about the whole orphan thing. Low blow.

He had also insinuated that Rapunzel was stupid, and that wasn't about to fly. Eugene feels a slight smile creep onto his face, because he knows this guy can't be serious. Doesn't he know who he's dealing with?

In a moment, Eugene has suddenly turned and swings. He feels his knuckles split with a hard /CRACK/, connecting with the younger man's nose. Charles stumbles back, surprised, holding his nose in shock as blood begins to pour down the front of his shirt.

But what Eugene didn't expect was for the prince to lunge back.

Always on guard, Eugene sidesteps him easily, but Charles is faster than he would've guessed, and he clips Eugene on the side of the head with a poorly aimed fist. Eugene tackles him to the ground, and the two men roll on the marbled floor for a long minute, both fighting to get the upper hand.

Eugene gets in another masterly aimed punch to the prince's jaw, before he hears the most awful sound he ever could have heard in that particular moment.

"Eugene Fitzherbert, what — what on earth are you doing!?"

Eugene feels a hand at his collar, yanking him roughly back and to his feet.

Rapunzel.

She's standing there all pretty in her satin gown. And all kinds of pissed off.

Uh oh. In hindsight, maybe Eugene shouldn't have thrown that punch.

"What are you /doing/?" She demands again, looking up at him with shock, confusion, and worst of all, disappointment.

She lets go of his collar, and Charles rises from the ground, a hand to his heart. Guests are already filtering into the hallway from the ballroom, interested in the commotion.

"Princess, he /attacked/ me —"

"Save it, Charles." Rapunzel doesn't bother to look her fiancé in the face as he cradles his gushing nose, but only stares at Eugene in anger.

Well, Eugene supposes, even if she is mad at him, he needs to appreciate the little victories where he can get them.

"Eugene." She repeats. He can tell she's trying to keep her cool the best she can in front of her guests. "What were you thinking?"

"I guess... I guess I wasn't." That's all Eugene can say, his voice dull. What's the point in making excuses? Sure, Charles was being an ass, pushing Eugene to the brink purposefully, but he chose to throw that first punch. He'd known full well what he was doing.

"This is a /ball/." Rapunzel lowers her voice. "With a lot of important people. Like the council? Who can make it very hard for you to continue living here?!"

"I'm sorry." And he is, truly. "I wasn't trying to embarrass you. But Charles —"

She interrupts him before Eugene has the chance to explain.

"You should be sorry. Because now there's blood all over the floor, and someone's going to have to clean it up."

"I'll clean it up."

"No, you won't." The princess sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose for a long moment before looking Eugene in the face, studying him closely for any outstanding injuries. "Are you okay?"

Well, at least he knows she still cares about him, even if she does think he's incredibly stupid and completely irrational.

"I am now."

"Okay." Rapunzel says simply, throwing her hands up in defeat. "I'm going to bed."

Rapunzel strides away quickly, the full skirt of her dress /whooshing/ behind her, her bare feet padding loudly on the marble floor in the hallway, which has gone dead silent. He thinks about chasing after her, but doesn't want to cause an even greater commotion than he already has.

Eugene wipes an excess bead of sweat from his brow, a scowl etched across his handsome face as he watches her go. At least his nose isn't broken, like Charles' surely will be. Eugene notices that the prince has disappeared from the crowd, probably to nurse his ego in the nearest bathroom.

Eugene is relieved when the king and queen, and their still-stunned guests, are ushered back into the ballroom with hushed whispers. He knows he'll probably get a firm talking to from King Frederic tomorrow, what with the hard look the king shoots Eugene before reentering the ballroom. Right now, though, Eugene is too tired to care.

The music starts up again in the ballroom, but Eugene knows he isn't completely off the hook when he sees Cassandra stomping toward him.

Great. The last thing he needs right now is another battle.

"Good job, bird brain! You made a huge scene!"

"What was I supposed to do, Cassandra? He was being a total dick! I'm kind of trying to defend Rapunzel's honor, because apparently I'm the only one who will around here."

Cass's typically hard features soften, only for a moment. For the first time, Eugene sees the empathy she has for him in her eyes, the sadness she feels for their current situation.

"You know, Eugene, as much as I hate this marriage thing, and as much as I would love to be able to fix it for her, being in an eternal pissing match with Charles isn't going to get our Rapunzel back."

With that, Cassandra is jogging after her best friend, trying to catch up to the upset princess, who is already far down the hall, probably cursing Eugene's name under her breath as she goes.

Eugene is left there alone in the main hallway, sore, beaten down, and knowing he's an absolute idiot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello, my fellow Tangled lovers! Are you ready for another chapter of 'Killing Me Slowly?' Because music is such a big part of my inspiration/writing process, I decided that from here on out, every chapter will have a featured song that I encourage you to listen to after reading. Today's featured song is: In My Veins by Andrew Belle feat. Erin Mccarley. An emotional, beautiful song that I think describes Eugene and Rapunzel's situation really well. I hope you're enjoying the story so far, because the next few chapters are about to get very… interesting, to say the least.
> 
> Do I have to include a disclaimer in every chapter? I'm honestly not sure. You guys know I don't own Tangled. At least, I hope you do by now.

**Chapter 5: You're In My Veins (And I Cannot Get You Out)**

It's the night before the big wedding day.

And he is drunk. Dizzy, self-loathing, and pitifully drunk.

He had allowed Lance to convince him to visit one of the local pubs that night, saying that Eugene needed to 'nurse this heartbreak with a good time.'

That 'good time' resulted in both of them getting wasted and walking home together in the dark.

In hindsight, it hadn't been the best idea. Although, Eugene concludes, he's all out of good ideas, and frankly, tired of 'doing the right thing.' Eugene rarely drank on a work night, but what did he have to lose? His heart hurts, so he might as well let the rest of his body catch up and hurt in the morning, too. His head is already pounding, which means he's making solid progress.

It also probably has something to do with the knocking on his door.

"Fuck." Eugene breathes, having dealt with Lance's escapades enough for one night.

He had all but dragged his friend home, after Lance had decided it would be a good idea to jump up onto the bar and start performing a badly delivered Scottish jig for the rambunctious bar crowd. When the booing started, Eugene knew it was time to go, and he successfully got his closest friend down from the bar, only after reminding Lance that they needed to report for guard duty at 6 a.m. the next morning. They had just returned to their respective rooms no more than five minutes ago. Eugene had already drunkenly taken off his shirt and vest, throwing them to the floor in a careless heap. He was left only in his pants, which Eugene had been struggling to unbutton when the knocking had ensued.

Couldn't a guy just go to bed, sleep off the pain, and deal with the wicked hangover he was guaranteed to face in the morning, in peace?

"Go away, Lance!"

Huffing, Eugene finally undoes a button on his pants, but that's as far as he gets before the knocking ruefully persists. Becoming growingly annoyed, Eugene stalks to the door, swinging it open, fully prepared to cuss Lance out and tell him to go to bed.

But /she/ is standing there, wearing a yellow dress, the color of creamy sunshine, her short hair a little tousled and her eyes slightly heavy, as if she'd been asleep. Eugene can't help but note how pretty she looks in the soft yellow color.

That's exactly what she had been to his life – a steak of pure sunshine in the ever-present darkness that was a life of thievery, manipulating, and bar hopping. Eugene had spent so much of his time looking for something /more/. When he'd found her, he'd known he would never have to search for that unfulfilled satisfaction again.

Now… well.

"Hi." That's all she says, softly. All she /has/ to say, and his knees are weak – weaker than the alcohol ever could have made him.

Eugene clears his throat, resting his increasingly pounding head against the doorframe for a moment, willing the world to stop spinning. If only for a moment, so he can get a good, long look at her, because he isn't sure when he'll get the chance to again after today, if ever.

Close-up viewings of her have been few and far-between lately. It had been three months since everything changed, three months since they'd gotten the news of the marriage. In those three months, they'd barely spent any time together. The last time he'd seen Rapunzel was days ago. Eugene had to quickly explain why he'd punched Charles at the ball last week, before Cassandra tugged her away to finalize the bouquet choice, or something to do with the wedding day.

So, Eugene had gotten accustomed to holding on to every small interaction with her for dear life, as if she would evaporate before him at any moment.

Eugene lifts his eyes to look at her, trying his best to pull himself together, despite the fact that he's all but falling apart at the seams.

"You shouldn't be here, Blondie."

"Yeah… I – I know that. I know it's late, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you, I just –" She picks at her fingernail, seemingly distracted. "I wanted to check up on you. Make sure you were alright."

"I'm great, never been better!" Eugene slaps on a fake smile, which only makes him want to slap himself, because he knows he can't lie to her. "I appreciate you checking in, but I should really get some sleep." He leans back, faking a yawn. "Work tomorrow, and all."

They stare at one another for a long moment, so many unsaid words left in the air, hanging just out of their grasp. Assuming there was nothing left to say, Eugene moves to close the door, but her hand pushes it back quickly, her eyebrows furrowing. Rapunzel steps closer, her nostrils flaring a little, her mouth twisting in confusion.

Shit.

"You smell like…" She shakes her head, as if she's scared to accuse him, scared of being right. "You smell like you're…"

"Drunk?" Eugene finishes for her, his voice dull and empty. He might as well be honest with her. She can be a little naïve sometimes, even completely innocent in some cases, but Rapunzel is definitely not stupid. That's one thing she never has been.

"Yeah."

Rapunzel had never seen the man she loves drunk before. Sure, she'd seen him have a beer or two at the Snuggly Duckling, and he'd let her take a whiff of the strong liquor she'd found in his bedroom. It was the bottle that Eugene kept on hand under his bed for special occasions, and he'd let her smell it, if only to appease her curious spirit. She'd stepped back, holding her nose in surprise at the potent scent, shoving the bottle back into Eugene's hands.

To his surprise, she'd never actually asked to try any of the alcohol for herself, and Rapunzel had certainly never seen Eugene flat out drunk. A little buzzed maybe – buzzed enough to grope her in a closet or in the garden behind some hedges when no one was looking, but never drunk.

In the past year, he had changed completely for the girl standing before him. He had left Flynn Rider in the desert to be eaten by the vultures, and allowed Eugene Fitzherbert to make a reappearance, something he swore to himself he would /never/ do. And for what? Only to be bit in the ass for it, because as it turns out, he was never really going to have a shot at happily ever after with her.

"That's because I am." He smiles lazily at her, ignoring her confused expression, grasping the doorframe in his hand. He's swaying a little now. "Really, really… drunk."

A hand resting on his hip, Eugene tries his best to appear as sober as he can, praying he won't make a total fool of himself. He really does try, although he knows he's failing miserably. She was probably chiding him on the inside for this irresponsible behavior, but Eugene doesn't really care. If Rapunzel has to marry someone else tomorrow, he can get drunk and fall into a pool of self-loathing for the night.

"Oh."

He doesn't say anything in response, just looks at her, trying to focus on steadying himself, rapidly blinking his eyes to will away the ensuing blurriness. His head is swimming – Eugene is a ship lost out at sea, Rapunzel is the beckoning island that would surely save him – and Charles is the rip current tugging him far away from her.

After a heavy silence, she speaks again.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

Eugene had forgotten she was standing there for a second, lost in thought at the image of himself as a ship, being tossed ruthlessly back and forth by the waves.

"Why are you drunk?"

He thinks for a moment, looking to the ceiling, as if the answer to her question will magically appear there.

"For a lot of reasons, I guess. But mostly because I'm sad." He concludes somberly.

"I'm sorry, Eugene. For everything. And I'm sorry that you haven't seen much of me lately. It's been so crazy, what with –"

He knows she means it, the apology, but he doesn't want to hear it. Not now, at least. Rapunzel opens her mouth to say more, her hands reaching out to touch him. Eugene quickly cuts her off before things get more complicated, more painful than they already are.

At least he has the sense to do that.

"You should go."

Rapunzel's hands fall back to her sides slowly, the hurt in her eyes clear as a cloudless day.

"Is that what you want?"

"I think so."

Eugene looks her up and down, drinking her in. God, she's beautiful. And she's standing right there, so close to him. And she always smells like lavender. He loves that about her. He's missed her so much these last three months – her voice, her laugh, their conversations – everything about her, he'd missed it. And she came all the way to his room to make sure he was okay, when /she/ was the one getting forced into an arranged marriage tomorrow. That was sweet of her. She was always so sweet, so caring with him – with everyone around her, really.

And her skin always tastes sweet, too –

"Yes." Eugene concludes, trying to sound sure of himself, although he doesn't even trust his own voice. "I think it would be best if you went back upstairs. Right now."

"Okay."

Eugene isn't sober, not by a long shot, but he's sober enough to register the deep pain in her voice, the way that it cracks of shame and guilt. Something he'd hoped to never make her feel.

Rapunzel turns to leave. But before she does, she looks him in the face, long and hard, her eyes never filled with such genuine emotion. Eugene can guess what she's going to say next, those three simple words that rip at his broken little heart each time she says them.

"I love you."

Eugene groans in response, letting his head fall, resting his forehead against the doorframe once more. This time, in defeat, unable to look at her.

She means it, he knows she does. But he can't take it.

"Please don't say that to me. Not right now."

Rapunzel peers up at him closely. Crap. She had been going, too.

"Why not? It's the truth, and I might never be able to say it again."

"Because I'm /drunk/, Rapunzel." Eugene lifts his head from the doorframe, which feels especially heavy now, looking her in the eye. "I don't deserve for you to come down here, saying that you love me. I'm super drunk, and I'm in love with you, and you look so pretty right now. And if you don't go now, I'm going to kiss you, or maybe do more than kiss you. And I can't do that, because you're getting married tomorrow."

She inches closer, a new emotion flickering in her eyes at his words. Eugene loves that look – _loved_ that look. The look she has when mischief crosses her face, a look for only him to see.

No, they can't do this! It would be wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

"Would it be so bad if you kissed me?"

"Yes, it would be /so/ bad if I kissed you, Rapunzel. As I previously have mentioned, you're drunk and I'm getting married tomorrow." That's not right. "I mean –"

"I know what you meant."

Her arms are crossed over her chest now, a steady look on her face, but a soft look. The princess doesn't seem angry, or even sad. She just looks… patient. Like she loves him.

Like Rapunzel is about to lose something she'll never get back, and she's trying her damn hardest to hold on for dear life, but remain calm all the while.

"It's not like you haven't kissed me at all in the last three months."

"That was different."

"How was it different?"

"I don't know!" Eugene throws his hands up in utter frustration. "Everything is just so… real, now. In less than twenty-four hours, you will be walking down the aisle! We can't… we can't keep doing this to ourselves, we can't get out of this, Rapunzel! We thought we could, we thought maybe we could convince the council to change their minds, but we can't. You don't belong to me anymore." Saying that final statement aloud sends a shock through Eugene, an ache in his stomach that he knows won't be gone in the morning, even if the alcohol in his body is.

She just stares at him, unsure of what to say, the tears welling in her eyes. It kills Eugene to see the person he loves, so sad. It kills him even more to know he can't do anything about it.

"Rapunzel… you need to go."

"I don't want to."

"I want you to."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not asking you to."

"I think you want me as much as I want you right now."

"Rapunzel, I'm drunk."

"And I love you."

"I don't want you to see me like this."

"I might not see you again!"

The finality of that statement hits Eugene right in the gut, making it hard to breathe, because he knows she's right. But he also knows that what he says next is the right thing.

At least, he prays it is.

"You need to go, Rapunzel. Please."

There's a long silence, a pain that hangs palpably in the air between them, so thick that Eugene swears he could reach out and grasp it in his hands like a heavy raincloud.

"Okay."

That's all she says before disappearing once more into the shadowed hallway, too tired, too defeated to argue with him. Eugene stands there in the doorway for a minute, listening to her delicate bare feet slowly padding up the stone stairwell. When he can't hear her steps echoing any longer, Eugene shuts the door behind him, calmly strides to the window, opens it wide, and throws up.

And he's pretty sure it has nothing to do with the alcohol.

* * *

Eugene braces his arm against the window pane, sighing deeply to himself and squinting at the golden hour sunlight that's pouring into the little sitting room overlooking the garden courts.

"I can't believe this is happening."

The handsome former thief feels a reassuring slap on his back.

"It's all gonna be okay, buddy. There has to be /something/ we can do."

Eugene rips his glance away from the courtyard just long enough to look at his burly friend, who continues on in ignorance.

"Hey, I know! When the officiant says that thing, 'Speak now or forever hold your peace,' we could swoop in, and —"

"Do you /want/ to get beheaded?"

"Not really, but I'd risk it for you and the princess."

"Just last week you were telling me that I need to return to my life of crime and let Rapunzel go."

"And I still think that would be the smartest thing to do." Lance places a supportive hand on Eugene's shoulder. "But, as your friend, I'll happily go back to prison if it means you can –"

Eugene lets out a long sigh.

"I think I really fucked up this time, Lance."

Lance's face falls at the sudden abruption, at the overcast look in the eyes of his childhood partner-in-crime. He'd seen Flynn Rider mess up a lot of things over the years: the hearts of innocent girls, the peace of mind of homeowners, the trust of past thieving partners. But the one thing Lance had never seen was Eugene look so utterly, irreversibly heartbroken, and there was nothing he wasn't willing to do to get that devastating look off his best friend's face.

"There wasn't anything you could've done. I mean, none of us saw this coming."

Eugene shakes his head, having already convinced himself that he should've seen the signs, that he should've known his tumultuous past would catch up to him sooner or later, that his past would hurt her. He should've known the blissful way that him and Rapunzel's life had been going for a full year, was simply too good to last.

"I could've done more. I had three months. I could've… fought harder. For her."

The 'her' in question is, of course, Rapunzel, who is standing in the garden courts below, a white dress falling from her shoulders. Eugene can see, even from their overlooking spot in the sitting room, the little white flowers that are woven into her short brown hair. He can see that her feet are bare, in true Rapunzel fashion. Eugene wonders which one of the many maids, the maids perfecting the position of the veil flowing down her back, Rapunzel had to argue with to let that one slide.

Eugene can't help but smile sadly at the image before him, the perfection that was the princess whom he loved so indescribably. Since the day he brought her back to this very palace, he had this image in his mind that he would be the one to watch Rapunzel walk down the aisle toward him in a white dress someday.

But that wasn't the reality of this day. Eugene's new dream had been stripped from him; /she/ had been stripped from him, and now he was standing in the rain without as much as a vest to keep his heart from growing damp, or from freezing over completely.

Today, on the day of her wedding, in which he wouldn't be standing at the other end of the aisle, he was standing here like a pathetic excuse of a man. Because he'd let himself fall in love, and the world was giving him his well-deserved karma in response.

"The two of you did the best that you could."

"She came to my room last night, Lance."

"She did? What did she say?"

"That she loved me. And then I told her if she didn't go, I would kiss her." Eugene gazes longingly at the courtyard, considering how flattering the shape of Rapunzel's dress looks on her – although, she somehow looks beautiful in just about everything. "And I kind of wish I had now."

"Shit, man. I'm sorry."

"Fuck, why didn't I just kiss her? I mean, I'll never get the chance to now. Now she's just… gone. Forever."

There's a long pause before Lance speaks again, as if he's tentative to say what's on his mind.

"You know, buddy… maybe… maybe it just wasn't meant to –"

Eugene whips around to face his friend once more, his eyebrows twisted.

"Don't say it. Don't say that I'm not meant to be with her. Don't try to make me feel better by saying that fate swooped in and gave her what she really deserves."

Eugene looks to the courtyard one last time, at the beautiful brunette girl who looks as miserable as he feels. She stands there, being poked and prodded by a dozen handmaids, her mind filled with the image of Eugene just as much as his is filled with her. Cassandra, who is standing with Rapunzel, her arms crossed, looks up to the window suddenly, and Eugene knows she can see them standing there, watching.

For the first time since he's known her, Eugene swears that Cassandra looks genuinely sad. Really, really sad.

"Hell will freeze over before I ever believe that."

* * *

Eugene tosses and turns in bed all that night. He hasn't eaten, and definitely can't sleep. The most he has consumed that evening is half a bottle of whiskey and a never-ending cycle of self-pity.

He had ignored Lance when he'd come pounding at the door, suggesting they take a horseback ride to the Snuggly Duckling and get wasted. Eugene doesn't want that — he doesn't /want/ to get drunk again, per say. He just wants to numb the pain.

He wants to chase the thought of her being with another man, the thought of her married to someone that isn't him.

Eugene tosses again and again, his mattress creaking loudly with each reposition that provides him no relief. He feels shaky all over, partly because he hasn't eaten a thing, and partly because he can't stop imagining Charles taking off Rapunzel's wedding dress.

What if the prince was fucking her right now? What if she was moaning his name this very moment? Would she really do that, after claiming she still loved him? Maybe she would. After all, the reality of the situation was that she was married now, and would be expected to bring successors of the crown into the world as soon as humanly possible.

At that, Eugene sinks his head into his pillow, and cries.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** War of Hearts by Ruelle plays hauntingly in the background. ***
> 
> AN: Buckle up, people. This is where things get a little… well, you'll see. The story really starts to escalate, here.
> 
> This chapter is Rated M for its sexually explicit nature. So, if that's not your cup of tea, no worries, but you've been warned. If it is… proceed. I really enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you like reading it. Finally, guys, please feel free to leave me reviews/feedback! I so enjoy receiving them.

**Chapter 6: I Can't Help but be Wrong in the Dark**

The next day, the day following the wedding, passes painfully slow. It's Saturday, which means Eugene has the 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. shift of patrolling the palace. It's his longest shift of the week, and he usually gets though it by daydreaming about Rapunzel. But today, the thought of her only makes the day drag on more slowly than usual.

Eugene had slept horribly the night before, what with the self-pity, and the wedding reception that had ensued until well beyond three o'clock in the morning. He'd been able to hear it all – the loud voices, the laughing, the ignorant celebration – all the way from the guard's wing of the palace. Eugene had briefly considered sneaking into the reception, if only to catch a glimpse of Rapunzel, but he didn't want to make the day any harder for her than it probably already was. There had to be at least five-hundred honored guests, if not more, and Eugene was glad that he had decided not to be one of them, lest last week's ball was looking for a part two. Eugene assumed no one would be happy to watch another fist fight.

Then again, he was still pretty new to this whole 'royal high society' thing. Maybe they were into watching fist fights.

Eugene wonders extensively about the ceremony throughout the day, thinking about how beautiful Rapunzel must've looked in that white, lacey dress up-close. Although he wills himself not to, he also thinks about the way Charles must've kissed her at the altar. And maybe, how the prince had kissed her /not/ at the altar. Eugene's stomach lurches at the thought of the words, 'You may now kiss the bride,' and lurches even further when he thinks about the typical activities of the wedding /night/.

All Eugene can do now is hope that Rapunzel hadn't been too uncomfortable, that the arrogant, obnoxious prince had treated her gently, and with patience. She deserves that much from him. It would be her first time, after all, and the last thing Eugene wants is for Rapunzel to be in pain, or to not at least somewhat enjoy her first time having sex. Sex is meant to be passionate, beautiful even, the union of two becoming one. And although the thought of her doing it with anyone else makes him want to positively vomit, all Eugene can hold onto is the hope that Charles had treated the woman he loves right the night before, and that the prince would do so forever.

Maybe Lance was right. Maybe it was time to let go – maybe Rapunzel really /could/ be happy with someone else. If Eugene kept her at arm's length, and didn't look at her for too long ever again.

* * *

Eugene's shift passes without any hiccups, albeit being incredibly long and boring. He considers finding a job that's less boring and pays more. But Eugene figures it would probably be hard to find someone who would be willing to hire him anyway, what with his past of thievery and all. It's not like his face hadn't been plastered all over Corona for a while there.

He returns to his bedchamber a little after 10 o'clock, strips out of his red guard uniform, which he tosses onto a chair in the corner of the room. He decides against a shirt and pulls on a pair of comfortable pants, relieved to be free of the tight, stuffy uniform.

Eugene lights a fire in the fireplace, and the little room draws in its warmth in no time. The sun has long since sunk deep below the horizon, and Eugene shuts the curtains on the black sky. The only reason he can see anything at all is thanks to the firelight that dances on the walls, leaving looming shadows everywhere. The shadows feel daunting, as if they're haunting him; as if Eugene didn't have enough haunting him already.

He hears a soft knock at the door, and steps away from tending to the fire to open it, wondering who could be here this late in the evening. Maybe Lance, itching for a late-night adventure after a long day of guarding the palace. They had been on separate rotations that day, but Eugene knows they were scheduled to get off of work around the same time.

To Eugene's surprise, it's Rapunzel who's standing there in his doorway, not Lance. She's wringing her hands, a deep frown pulling at her lips. The firelight dances on her face, and he wonders how she had gotten even more beautiful since the last time she'd shown up at his door unannounced. Well, when she had shown up two nights ago, and he'd seen her with blurred, drunken vision.

That was embarrassing.

She's wearing a satin green nightdress, the one with the thin straps that she used to wear when she was trying to drive him particularly crazy. Rapunzel knows he loves when she wears green – it brings out those eyes of hers of the same color, those eyes that turn him into a puddle of a man every time he looks into them.

Like right now.

The former thief clears his throat, trying his best to keep a nonchalant, Flynn-Rider-like composure at the unexpected arrival of the princess at his door. To his chagrin, Eugene has made it very difficult to maintain a smooth exterior lately.

"You shouldn't be here."

Eugene turns and walks slowly to the bed, sitting down. He runs a hand through this hair, feeling as though the wind has been knocked out of him at the sight of her. He doesn't tell her that she should go, either, not the way he had the other night, so Rapunzel simply shuts the door behind her. She tentatively sits down beside him on the bed, playing with her fingers in her lap.

"I know that I shouldn't have come. But I couldn't stay away."

"You're going to have to learn how to."

"I know. I just couldn't… tonight."

He stares at her for a long while, making Rapunzel fidget. A warm feeling bubbles up in her stomach with his hazel eyes upon her – a warmth that has nothing to do with the heat of the fire warming the small room.

"So. How was your wedding night?"

Eugene's voice is strained, almost foreign. Rapunzel doesn't want to talk about that, about the nightmare that was the finality of her marriage, but she knows the subject can't be avoided forever.

Rapunzel rises from the bed suddenly, standing before Eugene as he remains sitting on the mattress, fixating on her every movement. Eugene watches, mesmerized, as Rapunzel nudges his legs open so that she can stand in-between them. She places both hands firmly on either of his shoulders and leans forward with an unexpectedly seductive look in her eye.

Eugene knows that look. He knows where this little visit is about to go, because they've walked this wobbly plank a hundred times before. And he knows that he should probably tell her to go, now. Instead, despite the voice screaming in his head to make her stop, he lets her slowly push him down onto the mattress, climbing on top of him to straddle his lap.

"Miserable. Boring. It was miserably boring." Rapunzel shrugs indifferently, as if he had asked about her afternoon lessons on taxes, instead of the first night with her new husband.

Leaning back on the bed, Eugene uses his elbows to brace himself up, curious, his attention caught in her unforgiving hands. He knows that the now-married young woman shouldn't be straddling him. Or even in his room, for that matter. But he can't find the strength to send her away; he's too tired tonight. He won't send her away, despite the bitter taste left on Eugene's tongue at the words he says next.

"From what I've heard, it's not exactly boring to consummate a marriage." He can't look her in the eye as he says it, but with his cheeks in her hands, she guides him to face her.

"That's because I didn't."

Rapunzel's voice is quiet, timid even. Eugene blinks once, twice, wondering if he heard her correctly, or if he's simply imagining the whole thing.

"You didn't what?"

"I didn't consummate my marriage."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I couldn't do it, Eugene!" Rapunzel's voice has turned pleading now, her hands splayed on his chest, like something is irreparably broken, deep inside of her. Something no one but him can fix.

"He wanted to, of course, but I couldn't let him touch me, not the way you do… or did. So, I told him I wasn't ready for… for that, because I've only known him for a few months. He wasn't happy with me, but he let it go. For now, at least. Which buys us some time."

She's already undoing his pants as they speak, now working on the little satin ribbons tied down the front of her dress.

"I lied. Because I am ready, just not for him. I want you, now."

Eugene knows he should stop her small hands from working on his pants, but he lays completely still, watching her every move. Rapunzel recognizes the look in his eyes, that look that showcases the need he couldn't hide, even if he wanted to — the need for something dirty, the need for satisfaction that only she can provide.

"Rapunzel, you're married now. We can't —"

"We can."

"It wouldn't be right —"

"None of this is right! It hasn't been, for a long time." She pauses, holding his face in her hands again, pleading with him. "But /we're/ right. And I've missed you, so much."

"Okay, but this is /especially/ wrong –"

"Doesn't that turn you on?"

"Fuck, Rapunzel." Eugene lets his head fall completely back onto the mattress, running his hands over his face a few times in frustration before letting them fall at his sides. He looks up at her for a long time, sitting there in his lap with her dress pooled around her waist, all but falling off her shoulders, coaxing him in. Reaching his hand up, Eugene plants his palm firmly at the base of her skull, pulling the princess in close, staring into her eyes intensely.

"You're killing me here, Blondie."

She leans back, blushing slightly, just like she had the night of the ball.

"That's kind of the point."

His head is spinning at the sight of her on top of him, probably because it's been so long since they'd been this close, this intimate. But Eugene knows this is wrong on so many levels, to let her cheat on her new husband of a mere twenty-four hours. They are teetering on the edge of very murky waters, and Eugene knows that once they take this plunge they'd both yearned to take for so long, they'd never be strong enough to come up for air again.

"We really shouldn't be doing this."

"We /shouldn't/..." The princess, having gathered all of her courage, leans down to kiss him, deep and passionate. When she pulls away, her eyes are dark, hooded. "Or we won't?"

"We won't."

Eugene curses the way his voice shakes, the lack of confidence in his words, breathy and barely above a whisper. He curses the way he kisses her back, hungrily. There is a burning lust that's overtaking the entirety of Eugene's body at the sight of her, and fast, and he can't scratch that itch without her.

Eugene knows that. He knows that he could send her away like he should and relieve himself, or even worse, go out and find another woman. It's not like there aren't plenty of women needy for male attention in Corona, and it's not like the smolder is totally dead.

A little rusty, maybe, but not dead.

After all, Rapunzel /is/ married now. Technically, he's a single man. But Eugene knows that the moment he does find someone else, he'll regret it. Without a doubt, he'll regret being inside anyone that isn't her, even if it would only be for the purpose of momentary relief, which wouldn't mean anything to him emotionally. No matter how much he's yearned for that special kind of satisfaction for over a year now, he knows he can't do it. Because he already regrets the women he'd had before Rapunzel, the women he'd had sex with before he'd even /met/ her.

"Are you sure about that?"

Eugene /wants/ to sound sure, so sure that he isn't low enough of a man to have sex with a married woman, but he knows he doesn't sound that way at all. He doesn't like Prince Charles, not one bit, but the guy doesn't deserve to be cheated on – no one does. Then again, would it /really/ be cheating? Because this is Rapunzel, after all, /his/ Rapunzel. Eugene's one and true love. He knows Rapunzel doesn't love Charles, not the way she loves him, and she's not just any girl. She's not some woman Eugene could find at the bar who already happens to have a husband he knows nothing about.

The difference with Rapunzel is that Eugene cares, a little too much sometimes. He cares about her, deeply, about the quality of her life. Eugene doesn't want to get her into trouble, doesn't /want/ to encourage this immoral behavior, no matter how much he loves to see her so confident with him, needing him so badly. He needs /her/, and he also doesn't want her to be miserable with another man, fighting the urge to sneak away to him for the rest of her life. That wouldn't be fair to her marriage, to her shot at happiness in this undoable situation.

Maybe this would be their way to cope, _just this once_. Maybe this one night would be necessary to find the closure they both need. They could satisfy their desires, just once.

Maybe this is the only way they can find the strength to finally move on.

"I'm sure."

But Eugene is already dragging her down to kiss him again, more heatedly now than ever, his hands ripping at the last of the tied ribbons on her nightdress. To his dismay, Rapunzel pulls away, needing him to know indefinitely why she's here — not because she just wants sex. But because she wants him.

Not Charles, not any other man. Him.

"I want you to be my first, Eugene. I /need/ you to be the first one. I need you to destroy my body before he ever has the chance to touch me."

These words are enough to set Eugene absolutely on fire. God, he wants to claim her. He wants to be the first man inside of her, the only man to make her come, the only man whose name she moans in pleasure in the middle of the night. He needs to hear his name falling from her lips in pure ecstasy, as this could very well be the last chance he'll ever have to hear it.

How could he possibly say no to the girl he was still so madly in love with, not to mention horny as all hell for, when she's right here, willing to give herself to him once and for all?

Eugene takes her face in his hands, the raw emotion etched across his own.

"Rapunzel, if we do this —"

"I know." Rapunzel rushes to finish his thought with a caress to his cheek, to assure Eugene that it would feel so right to do what they were about to do, even if it was so catastrophically wrong. "There's no going back. I know what you're going to say, but I won't regret it in the morning. I could never regret this, not with you. I want you, Eugene, I need you. I've never been so needy, I feel like I've been going insane all day without you."

She's only a mere few centimeters from his lips as she speaks the desperate words, just out of his reach, her hand inching along the waistline of his pants.

"God, Rapunzel, I've never wanted you as badly as I did when I saw you in that wedding dress yesterday."

He's giving in, giving in to the perfect, perverse words that are making him yearn for her all the more, causing the embers in the pit of his belly to erupt into a forest fire that only she has the power to quench. Words that make Eugene forget the situation they're stuck in. Words that make him forget the painful fact that she belongs to someone else now, just for one night.

He clasps the sides of her face, reveling in the feeling of her soft cheeks in his calloused hands. Eugene is desperate to touch her, praying each touch won't be the last. It feels like it's been years since he's touched her.

"You looked so perfect, and I couldn't believe that you were marrying someone else. I still can't believe —"

"Shh, shh. Let's not think about any of that right now. Let's forget about all of it, just for tonight. You're the only man I love." Rapunzel whispers, brushing her lips against his. "You're the only man that can have me. Really have me."

This comment sets Eugene off, pushing him far over the edge, into a blind lust that he wouldn't have been able to pull himself from if he tried. She is the only one, the only woman he'll ever love. He would be the first one to fuck her, the first one to /make love/ to her – he has to be. He /has/ to, because he will absolutely lose his mind with regret if he lets her walk away right now, if he lets Charles be the first one to know what it feels like to be inside of her.

That regret would eat him alive. So the guilt he'll surely feel tomorrow is the better alternative, Eugene reasons with himself. There's no doubt in his mind that this will hurt like hell in the morning, but Eugene knows there's no stopping it, no turning back now. She's towed him under, all the way down, dragged him to the point of no return.

Rapunzel watches as her love's eyes grow dark, clouded with desire.

"I'm the only man that can have you." Eugene repeats.

"And what do you think we should do about that?" She breathes into his ear, coursing a shiver down his spine.

"I think you should be panting my name. All. Night. Long."

The sweet princess giggles a little. The sound in itself, only because he's missed her so much, is almost enough to make the former thief groan. Almost.

"I don't think I can stay all night, but —"

"Then we'll do the best we can with the time that we have."

With that, Eugene pulls the remaining ribbons of her dress open, pulling the nightgown off her shoulders and throwing it to the floor in a pool of satin.

"Lay down. I want to see you, all of you."

She does as he asks, leaning her head into the pillows. It's been a long three months.

"Open your legs for me."

She does, tentative, and Eugene drinks in the sight of her lying there, knowing it might be the first and last time he'll ever be able to see her completely naked.

Despite all the fooling around they had done over the course of a year, they'd never seen one another totally unclothed before. Eugene had wanted to respect his princess as she adjusted to a new world the best that he could, while fighting his own desires. All the while, trying to respect the king and queen's request that Eugene and Rapunzel wait until marriage to advance their relationship sexually.

/That/ had been an awkward conversation. But Eugene had understood the protective nature of her parents, and he hadn't crossed that boundary.

He'd crossed many lines in the past year, but not that one. At least, not until today.

For this reason, the sight of Rapunzel being fully naked before him for the first time, is enough to make Eugene feel slightly dizzy, fuzzy with awe and excitement, because she's perfect in every possible way. He leans forward, a hand dipped between her thighs, stroking the place Rapunzel needs him the most. She whimpers, desperate for more. But to her dismay, he pulls away, his eyes growing increasingly dark.

"Tell me that you're mine. Now, please. I need to hear it."

His voice is deep, throaty, and possessive, but quiet and gentle all at once, spoken in her ear for only them to know.

This is a secret they would have to keep, a secret they would have to live with. They're adults, adults who love one another – they were allowed to have secrets – at least, this is what Rapunzel tells herself. The thought of being /his/ and his alone again, if only for one night, sends a pang of need that pools between her legs, ready to coat his fingers.

"I'm yours."

To Rapunzel's relief, he reaches down between her thighs once more to reward her, teasing her entrance. Eugene watches as her chest heaves when his finger plunges inside of her.

"Say it again." Stroke.

"I – I'm... I'm yours." Her voice is deliciously shaky, but not as shaky as her legs are growing as Eugene hangs onto her every word, pumping his finger, slow but steadily. He studies Rapunzel's face as her eyes fall shut, her short brown hair splayed across his pillow.

"Again." Stroke.

"I— I'm —"

But the words are never delivered in full, as Eugene bends his head, lapping her wetness with his tongue. He grips her thighs in his hands as they tighten around his head. Eugene is sure he will leave finger-shaped bruises on her delicate skin, bruises that would be proof of their indiscretions – proof that he had been there between her legs, and recently.

Part of Eugene, a really twisted part, hopes that Charles will find them, and see the way he'd marked her.

Rapunzel's hands are deep in his hair, tugging it feverishly, moaning all the while.

"Eugene… that feels... /so/ good."

He goes on like that a while longer, before she suddenly sits up, a look of strange alert on her face.

"What's wrong?" He asks, worried that she may have heard someone coming down the hall or knocking at the door. Or maybe that she's come to her senses and realized how wrong this really was.

"Stand up."

"Okay… why?"

"Because I just realized something." Rapunzel smiles softly.

"What's that, Princess?" Eugene asks, a subtle snarkiness dripping from his lips.

She rests on her knees, legs sunk into the mattress, as he stands before her at the edge of the bed, looking down at her with slight confusion. Eugene watches as Rapunzel pulls his pants down, then his underwear, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"You always do things for me, but I never do them for you."

Eugene registers what she means, remembering that Rapunzel has never given him a proper blowjob before. She had slipped her hand below his pants, sure, but only a few times in the past, and it never went beyond that. Typically, he went down on her, not that he minded in the slightest. He would've been okay with simply kissing her for the rest of his life, if he really had to. And for Eugene, that was saying a lot.

"Its okay, Blondie, really. You don't have to –"

Despite his objections, the princess leans forward, tentatively taking his length into her mouth. Her eyebrows push together slightly, as if she's trying to determine how she feels about the sensation. Rapunzel watches in awe at the way Eugene's eyes roll back when her mouth is around him, the way his jaw goes slack, the way his hand desperately searches for the bedpost, latching onto it. She's never seen him react in such a way before, to anything, really.

Even when they used to fool around, it was usually Eugene who did things to pleasure /her/, but tonight will be different. Tonight, Rapunzel promises herself, she will show Eugene that he is the only man she'd ever be so desperate to please, so passionate for. She wants to show him that she wouldn't be selfish with the things he makes her feel.

She bobs her head a few times, though Rapunzel admittedly knows she has no idea what she's doing. Thankfully, Eugene's gentle, sure hand finds its way to the back of her head, guiding her up and down at just the right pace.

After several minutes, Rapunzel abruptly pulls away, looking up at him with those big green eyes that he loves so much. She looks truly nervous for the first time that night. He keeps his hand in her hair, cocking his head at her.

"We really don't have to do this, Blondie."

"No! No, I want to. I just – I wanted to make sure I'm doing this right. That it feels okay?"

Eugene can't help but chuckle a little, which only deepens her cute, worried look. She doesn't even know what she's doing to him.

"Rapunzel, hear me when I say this:" Eugene pulls her head back as gently as he can, positioning it so that she can crane her neck to look him in the eye. "You are absolutely perfect, I have never wanted you more than I do right now, and everything you're doing feels so much more than okay."

She blushes, smiling sheepishly, and without another word, dips her head and continues on. Eugene grips the bedpost, convinced that no blowjob before this one has ever felt so good. Despite her lack of experience, it seems like Rapunzel knows exactly what to do to drive him crazy – she always has.

Maybe it feels so good because it's been so long since he's gotten a blowjob. Definitely well over a year. Maybe it's because he really loves her, and that the head he'd received in the past hadn't been a product of love. Or anything even closely resembling love. Everything with her is always so different than anything Eugene has experienced before – what with her painfully sweet streak of innocence, the way he gets to be her first for everything, the way she quickly latches on to every slight direction he provides.

_Fuck, she's a fast learner._

Eugene tugs her hair back after a while, pulling her away suddenly. She pouts a little, having found her groove, but he just pulls her up onto her knees to kiss him.

"Why did you make me stop?" The breathless princess asks. "I thought you liked it."

"I did. I liked it a lot, actually." He caresses her cheek, laughing quietly. "But if you don't stop, I'm going to finish before we have the chance to get to the fun part."

"Oh… okay. I get it." Rapunzel responds simply, following Eugene's lead as he pulls her back onto the bed with him.

She's lying there beneath him, and she's perfect, and he doesn't want to hurt her, although he knows he probably will. Eugene positions her comfortably below him, nonchalantly brushing away a piece of hair that's fallen into her eyes, as if he still does it every day. She looks nervous, and he understands why.

"Are you /sure/ about this, Blondie?"

He wants her to be sure. He needs to know that she won't wake up tomorrow and see this as a grave mistake, something she'll wish she could take back.

"I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life." Rapunzel says, and he can tell by the look on her face that she means it.

Eugene reaches down between her legs, making sure she's still ready for him. He hopes that her desire will cushion the blow of him inside of her for the first time, if only a little.

"This is going to… hurt, a little. Or maybe a lot." He kisses her cheek, then her lips, softly. Eugene holds each side of his princess's face in his hands, not wanting to break the passionate eye contact between them. "And I'm sorry for that. It's going to kill me to hurt you. But it'll get better with time, I promise."

Rapunzel nods rapidly, mentally preparing herself for what's about to happen, trying her best not to look as frightened as she feels.

"I understand. I've read some books from the library about… well, I know it's going to hurt. But I – I'm ready. This is what I want." Rapunzel closes her eyes and sighs. A sad look crosses her face before she opens her eyes to look at him again, her voice raised just barely above a raspy whisper. "I'll hate myself forever if I don't do this with you first."

He understands exactly what she means. He'll hate himself forever if he isn't her first, too. Even if this is going to hurt tomorrow. Bad.

Eugene mentally prepares himself too, desperate not to hurt her. Or at least, desperate to keep the pain to a minimum. He knows he'll have to move slowly, even if it kills him. Even if he wants more, like he knows he will.

He rests his forehead against hers, pushing himself slowly inside of her, moving at the speed of a turtle inching along the road.

Her eyes squeeze shut. Eugene pauses immediately and leans down, cradling her head, holding her tightly in his arms. Rapunzel's face falls forward, into the crook of his neck, looking for some kind of comfort. He can feel the way her body is trembling all over. Eugene tries his best to keep his bottom half perfectly skill, as to not startle her and cause her any more sudden pain than he knows she's surely already in.

Rapunzel pulls back, letting her head fall into the pillows again. A single tear rolls down her cheek and Eugene quickly brushes it away with a thumb, kissing the spot where it had fallen. She clings to him, as though he were a life preserver, and they were stranded in the middle of the sea together. Sometimes, especially when they had first arrived at the palace all those months ago, it kind of felt that way.

After a long moment, Eugene pulls slightly away so he can get a full view of her face, pushing her hair away lovingly, trying to gauge her thoughts.

"We don't have to go any further than this, sweetheart. Just tell me if you want to stop, and we'll stop, I promise." Eugene whispers in her ear as softly as he can, wishing he could bottle up this special moment and keep it in his back pocket forever.

"No!" She says quickly, plunging a hand into the hair at the base of Eugene's neck, as if to keep him from moving away, swallowing hard. "Stay… stay there." Rapunzel confirms her desire despite her strained, breathless voice, despite her eyes still being shut tight. "I just… I just have to adjust to… to you." She heaves in a big breath of air. "Just give me a minute, please."

"Okay." Eugene breathes, willing to wait as long as it takes, for her.

After a few short minutes, she opens those big green eyes of hers, and Eugene swears they could launch a thousand ships if they wanted to – and then make them sink right after. His voice cracks when he speaks again, his eyes glued to her face, unable to move away if he wanted to. Usually, he'd be embarrassed by that, by a lack of control, a lack of smoothness.

Flynn Rider would surely be rolling over in his metaphorical grave. But right now, he doesn't care. Eugene doesn't care about anything but her.

"I love you so much."

Every agonizing emotion he's felt since finding out about the marriage escapes from Eugene in those five simple words, as if the floodgates of his heart have been opened wide. Every sleepless night, every time he's watched from afar as she's walked or talked with Prince Charles, every tear he's cried at the thought of losing her forever. He doesn't want to pretend anymore. Eugene is tired of pretending that he can bear her belonging to someone else. He's surely felt more anger, jealousy, and heartbreak in the last three months, than he's experienced in the last twenty-five years.

And it all comes rushing out in those five little words.

Rapunzel reaches up to caress his face in response to his vulnerable words, staring at Eugene as the tears continue to fall upon her cheeks, more rapidly than before.

The princess cries, not because she's in pain, but because she wishes they could be doing this under very different circumstances – because she'd always imagined this happening on /their/ wedding night – not the night after her wedding to someone else. She cries, because she understands so deeply the significance of this moment: she's never made love to anyone before… but neither has he. Eugene wasn't a virgin, not by a long shot, Rapunzel knows that.

But she also knows that there is a big difference between having sex and making love. She knows which of them Eugene has done before, and which of them is happening right now. The two aren't the same, and he knows it, too.

"I love you, too." Rapunzel reiterates her own feelings with salty tears running down her face. "More than anything. Please, Eugene, make love to me."

With the final go ahead, Eugene pushes the rest of himself inside of her, filling her completely, which causes Rapunzel to cry out quietly. She sucks in a deep breath through the nose, but nods when he looks to her worriedly. She lets Eugene know that it's okay to move, that she's okay.

So he does, and it's bliss – pure, unmatchable bliss. Eugene hangs his head, resting it against her shoulder, because he doesn't have the strength to do much more in this moment. He's never felt anything like her before. She's so warm and wet, and God, she's /tight/.

Maybe it has something to do with that whole 'being in love' thing again, but Eugene feels like he's never understood sex until right now, even though he's spent so much time thinking he was an expert on the subject. All he can think over and over again as he thrusts in and out of her gently, painfully slow, is _fuck, fuck, FUCK._

As the ever-so-gentle thrusts continue, Rapunzel melts into a curious mixture of pleasure and pain, a feeling unlike anything she's ever felt before, a feeling she could never explain in coherent words. Before long, the pain has given way to pure pleasure, and the once-innocent princess is promptly begging Eugene to go faster, to give her more, more, /more/. More of this addicting feeling, more of himself.

The headboard hits the wall with a violent /slap/ with every long, deliberate thrust, thrusts that grow quicker and harder by the minute. Eugene braces his hand against the headboard as it rocks back and forth, knowing Lance will surely give him never-ending grief for this tomorrow morning. The two men share a bedroom wall in the guard's quarters, and Eugene knows his lifelong friend will, without a doubt, hear every moan, every cry of pleasure, every desperate word through the thin wall.

But he doesn't care. Right now, all Eugene cares about is the warm tightness surrounding his cock that feels /so fucking good/, and his beautiful princess writhing below him. All he cares about is the young woman in his arms that he loves more than anything he's ever loved before – more than the money he thought he so desperately wanted, more than the life he'd thought he'd wanted to live.

Now, he can't have her, either.

This is the woman he wants but can't really have, not once she leaves tonight. The woman he loves so much that it almost hurts to look at her like this, panting under him shamelessly, experiencing the unexplainable feeling of satisfied lust and desire for the first time. It hurts to see her like this, a hurt that is big and deep, because Eugene knows it will probably be the first and last time he'll ever get to feel this with her.

And he knows that's a wound that will never heal.

Morning, no matter how much Eugene wishes he could stop it, will surely come. And the reality that _she isn't his anymore_ will sink in once again, even more painfully than the first time he realized it.

It hurts, because now he knows what it's like to make love to her. Now he knows. And he's not sure he's ever going to be able to move on from that.

"Eu— Eugene —"

Rapunzel moans loudly as he thrusts into her, deep and hard. With each thrust, Eugene lets every ounce of anger he's felt in the last three months seep out of him and into her, in a new form of passionate emotion: love.

Eugene considers covering her mouth with his hand to muffle her cries, lest one of the other guards may hear. He doesn't trust most of them, and he knows that some of them still don't trust him either, what with his colored past and all. They don't believe that he's truly changed, and maybe, with good reason.

Although he's made some friends here, Eugene is sure that a significant portion of his coworkers are still searching for any excuse to get him thrown out of the palace, or better yet, thrown into prison like he surely deserves. After all, he'd really given them a run for their money, and had made their jobs incredibly difficult for a solid few years. Now, they were being expected to work alongside him, as if those years had never happened.

The newly married princess moaning in his bed would be the perfect opportunity to get Eugene fired, if someone really wanted to make it happen.

Despite his concerns, Eugene decides against muffling her cries, determining that the sound of her voice moaning /his/ name instead of Charles' is worth running the risk of being caught. Well worth it. Besides, Eugene knows he'll never get the chance to hear it again, so he's going to cling to it for as long as he can.

He's already lost the love of his life forever, the person that gave him a _reason_ to be better. What else can a man really lose?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, how are we all feeling after Chapter 6? Don't worry, that's not the last time Eugene and Rapunzel will have some, uh hem… feel-good-happy-fun time, as Eugene so poetically likes to call it.
> 
> Today's featured song is… drum roll please… This Town by Niall Horan. Very much captures the essence of what's going on in Eugene's head right now, especially the following lyrics:
> 
> Waking up to kiss you and nobody's there  
> The smell of your perfume still stuck in the air  
> It's hard  
> Yesterday I thought I saw your shadow running round  
> It's funny how things never change in this old town  
> So far from the stars
> 
> Aaaand… I just made myself sad. I hope you enjoy this one, because it was fun to write. I'm absolutely living for all of this Eugene angst.

**Chapter 7: Orphans Don't Deserve Love, and Thieves Can Never Keep It**

The following day, Sunday, is Eugene's only day off from work each week. He tosses and turns until sometime after nine o'clock, when the sun has long-since flooded brightly through the curtains, blanketing the little bedroom in a warm, golden color. The fire in the fireplace has long since gone out, and so has the fire in his heart, leaving Eugene feeling damp and cold all over. He rolls over, hiding his face in the pillows with a pathetic groan.

Bad move. Rather than providing some much-needed comfort, his pillow only punches Eugene deep in the gut, because it still smells just like her.

Talk about a wakeup call.

Eugene drags himself out of bed with heavy eyes and a heavier heart, dressing casually in brown pants, a white long-sleeve, and a navy leather vest – appropriate attire for the sunny, comfortably warm November day. He stalks down to the employee dining room, already feeling an especially foul mood settling in, burrowing deep in his bones.

Eugene considers turning on his heel when he spots Lance sitting at the otherwise empty breakfast table. Lance leans back, two of the legs of his chair lifting off the ground, sporting a grin that is way too chipper for nine a.m.

"Hey, buddy! Haven't seen much of _you_ these last few days. You look tired. Did you not get much sleep last night?" Lance asks in a suggestive tone that Eugene knows is meant to resemble mock concern.

Just as Eugene had feared, Lance, without a doubt, had heard everything. _Everything_.

"I slept dandy." Eugene replies, yanking a chair from the table before falling into it, absently spooning some fruit onto a plate. "Just _fucking_ dandy." He breaths bitterly.

In actuality, Eugene had laid awake for the majority of the night after Rapunzel had left a little after midnight. He couldn't sleep, couldn't do anything aside from fixate on the fact that they had just made love for the first time, yet she still had to return to her married bed for the night.

_A bed that had a different man lying in it._

It was sick, really. All of it. Eugene had known the rainstorm of guilt that was pouring upon him in unforgiving torrents this morning was inevitable. He had known full well how he'd feel in the morning when he didn't turn Rapunzel away last night: like absolute garbage. He'd known how painful it would be when he'd wake up and she wouldn't be there in his bed, sleeping beside him like she should've been.

Still, he'd done it anyway, given in to her pleas and his own unquenched desires. He'd given his whole heart to her, his body, and hers she'd given to him. He'd now given her every piece of him that he possibly could, all the while knowing how much the aftermath was going to kill him. And this morning, he has the audacity to be surprised at how empty he feels.

Because Eugene is an idiot. An idiot who is totally and completely in love with the princess. The _married_ princess.

It would've been easier on his heart in the long run to make her go last night. But Eugene hadn't been strong enough to send her away then, and probably wouldn't be strong enough now, if he were to see her again today.

Eugene really needs to work on the whole 'will power' thing.

Unfortunately, having will power where Rapunzel was concerned was like asking one man to stop the moon from affecting earth's tides, or asking one man to stop the sun from shining so bright. In a word, it was impossible. It was impossible not to love her and even more impossible to stop wanting her as much as Eugene still does. Even after the relief brought about by their little late night indiscretion, he _still_ wants more of her, because she's her.

"Oh, something was fucked last night, alright. Like the _princess_? By YOU?"

Eugene drops his spoon to his plate with a loud /clank/, giving Lance a hard look, trying his best to convey the message that he's not in the mood for their usual jovial banter today.

"C'mon, man, don't bust my balls. That's the last thing I need right now." Frankly, Eugene doesn't need to be kicked while he's down.

Especially not by Lance, of all people, whose life decisions were far past questionable at best.

Lance gives his best friend a raised eyebrow in return, a slight look of judgment. That annoying grin of his fades, and Eugene knows that Lance isn't just teasing anymore.

"Okay, okay." Lance raises his hands in defense. "Look, Eugene. I say this, only because I love you… but you do know she's _married_ now, right?"

"Yeah, Lance, I know she's married. I'm actually well aware of that, but thanks for the painful reminder."

Lance reaches for a bottle of syrup, drenching the stack of fluffy pancakes on his plate.

"I'm not trying to hurt you, buddy. But if anyone finds out, or if anyone _heard_ everything like I did," Lance pauses to shiver dramatically. "Charles and the council will probably call for your head on a stick. Like… _sever_ your head from your body and parade you around like a Eugene-shaped piñata. You know that, don't you? Think about what would happen to your hair!"

"Yeah, I know."

Lance sighs, tipping back in his chair once more to look at his best friend with worried eyes.

"She's married, man. You have to let her go. You've gotta give her a shot at a happy life with this guy. She can't have that _if you're rolling around in the sheets with her_." Lance provides a semi-sympathetic look before shoveling a mouthful of pancake down his throat. Semi-sympathetic, only because he is a little jealous that Eugene got laid last night, even if it was under the worst possible circumstances.

"I _KNOW_." Eugene breathes deeply, dropping his head into his hands in defeat, rubbing them over his face. "I know."

They had made love not once, but _twice_ , though Rapunzel had left in a rush right after, knowing that Charles would be wondering why she hadn't come to bed yet and would probably come looking for her. She'd mumbled something about having to lie about being in the library while pulling her nightdress back over her head.

Eugene had so desperately wanted to hold her, to beg her to stay the night, or even just a little while longer. He'd never been the type of cuddle post-sex, but he needed to feel her skin upon his, to feel her soft breath against his neck – to keep her from ever going back to that freaking prince. But he knew she couldn't stay, and hearing her say no would've only hurt more. Charles had probably been suspicious enough about the princess's late night disappearance as it was, and the last thing Eugene needs is another confrontation.

Or another fist to the head.

Eugene knows Lance is right, that she has no chance of happiness with Charles while he's still around, but he can't find the strength within himself to leave the palace quite yet. He's not sure that he ever _will_ find it. There's that whole 'lack of will power' thing again – Eugene's inability to walk away from Rapunzel, his inability to bear the thought of never looking at her up-close again. To have to see her as the rest of the kingdom does – as the beautiful, caring Princess Rapunzel of Corona, and not _his_ princess. His Sunshine, his Blondie, his overly-curious, daring adventure partner, the girl who used to sneak into his room, if only to make out with him in the middle of the night. How could he possibly walk away from that?

After all, he'd promised her, and himself, that he would never leave her again, what with the trauma of him leaving her on the beach that night after the lantern festival, and then _dying in her arms_ the next day. He'd already left her enough for one lifetime, hadn't he?

He might have to get himself _kicked_ out of the palace, Eugene concludes. Although, with Lance around, that wouldn't be too hard to accomplish.

Besides, maybe Rapunzel _would_ be better off if Eugene left. That way, she could pursue the relationship and lifestyle that was expected of her. It seems as though he's always teaching her all the _wrong_ things, things like sex and swear words and how to pick a lock – activities that are definitely unfit for a princess.

Then again, she isn't any ordinary princess. Rapunzel revels in doing the very things that _aren't_ expected of her.

Eugene smacks his hand on the tabletop in frustration, irate with both his head and his heart for pulling him in two completely opposite directions, as though playing tug of war. A film reel of the night before replays through his mind on an endlessly painful loop; every moan, every whispered 'I love you,' and his personal favorite – the choice swear words that had fallen from her lips countless times, the ones he'd taught her under the shade of a willow tree. He'd given her an in-depth description of every choice word he could think of, and she'd giggled and repeated each of them, amazed by the way they rolled off her tongue.

That day felt like years ago.

"But I couldn't help it!" Eugene leans in closely to his friend with a hushed tone, praying that no one is lurking outside the dining room. "She came to my room again last night, unexpectedly, and she told me that she didn't consummate the marriage with Charles the other night. Because of me. She couldn't do it, because she needed _me_ to be her first. She needed me to destroy her body before he could have the chance to touch her. That's what she said."

Eugene recalls his princess's desperate words, the way they'd set him on fire to the tune of her sweet voice — every 'I'm yours' that would forever be burned into his mind's eye like a Rapunzel-shaped brand.

Lance is quiet for a long moment, before he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Shit. That's deep."

"You're telling me that you could've said no to that? She all but _begged_ me to have her, Lance. She was desperate, and so was I. And I know it's wrong. I know it makes me sleazy or whatever, to knowingly fuck another man's wife. And under different circumstances, I wouldn't have. But this is _Rapunzel_. I still _love_ her, I can't just turn that off." A scowl forms on Eugene's handsome face as he continues in his bitterness. "I found her in that tower and I brought her back here in the first place, not him."

"I know you did, buddy." Lance reaches over to slap Eugene lovingly on the shoulder, pain visibly filling his eyes at the sight of his friend in such deep remorse. "I know you did."

"I mean, what was I... what was I _supposed_ to do? That might've been my only chance to have her, to _truly_ have her."

Lance nods, knowing his friend needs to vent right now – vent out the pain of waking up this morning without her, in the wake of the intoxicating feelings of the night before.

To vent out the hangover that is Rapunzel.

"I took her virginity last night. No matter what happens, even if I never get to speak to her again, even if everyone finds out and I get kicked out… or worse. I have it, right here." Eugene sticks a finger to his chest, pointing at his heart. "It's mine, forever. No one can take that away from me. I needed that, Lance, after the way these last few months have gone. And I wouldn't take it back."

Lance sighs, wishing he could've just enjoyed his pancakes.

"I understand, I do. I just... I don't want to see you get hurt more than you already have by choosing to stay here, only to watch the woman you love be married to someone else." Lance pauses, a slightly judgmental look returned to his face. "Or lynched for having an affair with the married princess."

"Look, I know it's fucked up, all of it. But I'm willing to let the chips fall where they may. I'll face the consequences when they come," Eugene shrugs indifferently. "If they come."

"You know, Eugene, you might not care what happens to _you_ if someone catches you, but what about what could happen to her? Charles doesn't exactly seem like the kind of guy that would let this slide if he found out."

"You think I haven't thought about that?" Of course he had. All Eugene _ever_ thought about was Rapunzel, and whether or not she'd be okay. "I guess I just have to hope that no one finds out."

Lance leans forward, a usual look of mischief returned to his face.

"Do you think it'll happen again? Maybe she'll show up all desperate and needy to your room tonight."

Eugene runs a hand through his hair, wondering what he _would_ do if she were to show up to his room again. Most likely not send her away, because he's weak as hell when it comes to her. She probably won't come back, though, he figures – they've quenched their thirst, scratched that itch, once and for all. Why keep dragging this on, when the morning after hurts this much?

_She's married now, this can't happen again._ _Why would she come back?_ Eugene thinks to himself. _Well, maybe because she still loves you, because she's nineteen and just had sex for the first time, because you're incredibly good in bed… wait a minute._

_Why WOULDN'T she come back?_

"I don't know if it'll happen again, Lance. I know I have to try to stay away from her, even if it kills me."

"But will she stay away from you after that little taste of Fitzherbert di –"

Eugene shoots Lance a pointed look, a silent warning not to finish that sentence.

"Honestly, I don't know. An incredibly selfish part of me hopes not." Eugene rests his elbow on the table, placing his chin into his hand with a drawn out sigh. He's not so hungry anymore, not after this downright depressing conversation, not after evaluating his questionable decisions. "But the other part of me knows it's wrong to want her to cheat on her… _husband_."

Yuck. That title, concerning Rapunzel and attached to someone that isn't him, is enough to make a bit of bile rise in Eugene's throat.

"Well, for my sake, I hope she _will_ stay away." Lance turns back to his plate, shoveling a forkful of pancake dripping with syrup into his mouth. "Because your headboard is loud as fuck, and I slept horribly last night."

* * *

Rapunzel has been whistling all morning. It's a happy tune, one that you might even tap your feet along to.

It's the kind of whistling that Cassandra absolutely despises.

"Okay. Spill it, Raps." Cassandra tosses a newly-fluffed pillow to the princess, who returns it to its proper place on the massive bed. The lady-in-waiting crosses her arms, giving Rapunzel a hard look. "What happened to you last night? You _totally_ went MIA."

Rapunzel's whistling drops off suddenly as she begins to sputter instead. The petite brunette chuckles nervously, clearly trying to disguise the bright blush color creeping ruthlessly upon her neck. She takes one end of a freshly washed sheet in her hands, looking for a distraction, any distraction. Rapunzel struggles to fold it under the mattress as Cassandra works easily on the other side.

"I – I don't know what you mean, Cass."

Cassandra steps over, taking Rapunzel's end of the sheet from her hands. She's frowning, deeply, the kind of frown that says, 'You can't fool me, so stop trying.'

"Rapunzel, you have been cheerful and giggly all morning." Cassandra tosses the remaining material onto the bed, looking her friend in the eye with a heavy sigh. "Look, I know everything going on these last few months has been hard on you. You've been… different. You've _changed_ since Charles got here, and I don't blame you for that. I don't blame you for how angry you've been, and I'm happy to see you happy for the first time in so long. I feel like you haven't been yourself in weeks. And although I can't believe I'm admitting it, I miss your overly caring, overly touchy, overly… _cheerful_ self."

Rapunzel hangs her head, because even she can't deny that she's been a far cry from her usual self in the last three months. She's felt no desire to explore, to climb, to quench her burning curiosity – not the way she had when she'd first arrived home. It were as though Charles's arrival had sucked every ounce of joyfulness from the typically bubbly princess.

She'd tried her best to remain positive despite her less-than-ideal circumstance. Doing so had become increasingly difficult, especially since the wedding day, when Rapunzel had begun sharing a bedroom with the stuffy prince. Because that's what husbands and wives do – they share a bed. But it was nothing like sharing one with Eugene, warm and comforting and safe. With Charles, it was cold and felt empty, because the bed was so big, and she'd found solace in scooting herself as far away from the prince as she possibly could, while still being on the bed.

She hadn't expected it to be anything like what it was to share a bed with Eugene, hadn't expected him to be like Eugene at all – but being with Charles was just so… starkly different. So much so that it deeply irked Rapunzel.

Cassandra continues, not trying to hide her concerned expression.

"I've wanted nothing more than to see that side of you come back. And this morning you seem a little more like… _yourself_. But I can't help but feel like it probably has something to do with –"

"Birds!" Rapunzel exclaims, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, causing Cassandra to jump a little, pushing her dark eyebrows together in confusion at the princess's outburst. "It has to do with _birds_. I saw these two birds this morning from the balcony. And they were so happy together, I guess it just put me in a good mood. And… then… this _bee_ flew up and stung the birds, and…"

"I _know_ you didn't just make a reference to the birds and the bees!"

"Well –"

"Rapunzel!" Cassandra leans in close, hissing quietly at the princess. The lady-in-waiting looks to the heavy oak doors that have been propped open, to ensure that none of the palace maids are milling about, what with their always open ears and eagerly gossiping mouths.

Months ago, a rumor had been going around amongst the maid staff that Eugene had a massive – well, Eugene had been proud as a peacock when the news of _that_ rumor hit his overly-sized ego. Cassandra hadn't heard the end of it for weeks, and would never fully recover from the trauma. His lower half was a part of Eugene that Cassandra never wanted to think about.

Even more than she didn't want to think about the other parts of him, like his narcissistic tendencies, immature sense of humor, and slight obsession with his hair.

"You lost your V-card last night, didn't you?" Cassandra whispers quietly, unsure if she should be upset or laugh. One thing she knows she _shouldn't_ be is surprised.

Rapunzel looks to the ceiling for a long, drug out moment, as if the question didn't call for a simple _yes or no_ answer _._

"I don't know what that means, exactly –"

"Oh, come _on_." Cassandra throws her hands into the air. "You might've been in a tower for eighteen years, but I know, that _you know,_ a lot more than you let on. Eugene has taught you a lot more in the last year than how to pick a lock or how to swipe an extra dessert from the kitchen without getting caught. You think I don't know what you two were up to when you went off on all of those long 'horseback rides?'" Cassandra pauses to create quotations in the air with her fingers, grimacing with a dramatized shiver. "I _caught_ you in the loft that day, getting eaten –"

"And I _apologized_ for that." Rapunzel tugs at the collar of her dress, fanning her face a little. "Whew. Is it hot in here to you?"

"Stop avoiding the question!"

"I'm not _avoiding_ anything, Cass! I'm simply commenting on the temperature of the room. My old bedroom was never this stuffy."

"Let me guess." Cassandra taps her foot, her arms remaining crossed over her chest. "You didn't lose it to our favorite blonde prince, either. You know, your _husband_?"

Rapunzel's shoulders sink with a grimace, because she knows there's no use in lying to her best friend. Cassandra somehow always knows the answer to everything. But not in a worldly way, like Eugene.

It was more of an 'I know one thousand different ways to kill you in your sleep' sort of way.

"Not exactly."

Cassandra pinches the bridge of her nose for a long moment, before placing a gentle hand on either of the princess's shoulders.

"Look, Raps. I know how much you love Eugene, despite how much I'll never understand it. But if anyone catches wind of this, you're going to be in some deep shit." Cassandra thinks for a moment. "Let me rephrase that: if anyone finds out about yours and Eugene's little indiscretions, as the person hired to look after you, _I'm_ going to be in deep shit. I'll get fired for letting you do something so stupid, and probably sent to a convent. A _convent_. Is that what you want?"

"Well, no –"

"Then don't you dare have sex with Eugene again!" Cassandra points a finger to Rapunzel, who can't tell if her lady-in-waiting is posing empty threats, or trying to say that the secret is safe with her. "You're a _married_ woman now, Rapunzel, as gross as that is. And married women cannot have scandalous love affairs with once-convicted criminals. Got it?"

"Right. Here's the thing about that. I kind of _hate_ being married to Charles. And I know that I should stay away from Eugene, but you've never been in love before, Cass! I _had_ to see him after the wedding, it's been killing me to stay away from him! And once I got there, I couldn't _not_ kiss him. And things just kind of started to escalate from there and I –"

"I _DON'T_ want to know!" Cassandra slaps a hand to her forehead, groaning inwardly. "Ugh. Just… don't make this a regular thing, okay? And whatever you do, make sure you don't get _caught_. I don't need to see Eugene's body hanging from the ceiling in the main entryway in the morning."

Rapunzel pulls back in realization, a sly smile on her lips.

"You _care_ about Eugene."

"No, I don't. I'm just not a morning person, and we both know that _I'll_ be the one roped into cleaning up the mess."

* * *

When Eugene was just a little boy, he'd often sneak up to the roof of the orphanage at sunset, and watch the sun sink into the sky, giving way to the bright moon. He'd imagine himself, not as poor orphan Eugene Fitzherbert, but as Flynnigan Rider, floating upon the stars. He'd imagine himself as the swashbuckling rogue, rich beyond human comprehension – someone all women wanted, and all men wanted to be. Eugene would sit there on the roof and imagine all the things he would do if he ever had as much money as the intriguing fictional character: buy a private island, buy a castle – buy _happiness_. With that much money, he could fill the void set deep in his heart, a void that had been created by a lack of pure, genuine love.

The kind of love that only Rapunzel had given him.

Months ago, Eugene had found this wide ledge hanging from a tall window on the north side of the palace, overlooking the entirety of the kingdom and the harbor set off in the distance, opening its mouth to the never-ending sea. Sometimes, he'd come here to this hidden spot when he needed a moment alone, a moment to think, to clear his head – lately, even when he needed a moment to cry.

Eugene had found this very spot on the same night Rapunzel had asked him to stay here in the palace with her. It had been the same day she'd saved his life, the day he'd returned her to her parents. That night, he'd swung his feet over this very ledge, looking out into the vast kingdom, and thought about all he had to lose, and all he had to gain. If he stayed, he'd lose a life of constant adventure, a life of thieving, a life of trickery and lies – a life that provided little to no satisfaction.

A life of _emptiness_.

Despite its lack of fulfillment, a life of crime, aside from those first years in the orphanage, was the only life Eugene had ever known. To let go of that had been, although he'd never admit it, scary as all hell.

But even then, that first night spent in the palace, Eugene had known how he felt about Rapunzel, had known that something about her made him want to be… _better._ Different _._ She'd dug into his conscience in a way that no one had before her. He was sure that she was the best thing to ever happen to him, sure that he could _change_ for her, if she wanted him to. He could leave everything he'd ever known behind, let her burn every bridge he'd ever crossed in her little hands, and pray to the heavens that he wouldn't go up in flames with them.

He'd prayed that she'd still be there to keep him warm, even if he _did_ burn with all those bridges he'd built – even if the ashes of Eugene Fitzherbert weren't as interesting, as suave, as _fun_ as the fire that Flynn Rider had been.

_Had_ been. Once he'd met her, the strangest feeling overtook Eugene, the feeling that Flynn Rider wasn't so fun a role to play anymore. That Flynn's purpose had come to an end, that his chapter as the roguish thief had come to a halting stop, an unexpected close. He didn't _need_ Flynn anymore, not if he had her.

After all, Flynn's entire façade had been built upon a lack of love and affection in Eugene's life, a need to be anything _other_ than an orphan. All he'd really been for all those years, was a shell of a man portraying someone that didn't exist, a character he'd idolized and then personified, if only to comfort the blow of the unlucky hand he'd been dealt. Wearing the Flynn Rider mask, Eugene had shoved his swagger, his narcissism, his bravado so far down everyone's throat, only to hide the fact that he was no more than an orphan with abandonment issues. He hadn't had a savior complex, hadn't wanted to be the good guy, and certainly hadn't wanted to be the one who saved the damsel in distress.

All Eugene had ever really cared about was having enough money to never have to worry about _not_ having money again. He'd cared only about himself, and only about his dream of all that money, and that was it. That was all he'd been concerned with – well, and the quickest way to get away with a crown that was worth millions. That is, until he'd met her in the tower that would claim his life and give him new life, all at once.

If he stayed in the palace, Eugene had considered all those months ago on that first night here, he'd gain a lot of things. Sure, maybe he wouldn't have the adventure of hopping from place to place all the time. He would certainly have a more stable lifestyle, filled with the kind of routine _schedule_ that he'd never known. He'd definitely never have to worry about where his next meal would come from. And he'd surely never have to worry about money again.

But most importantly, if he stayed in the palace, he'd gain _her_.

And that had been more than enough reason to stay. He'd said so himself: she was his new dream, and he'd meant it. How could he _not_ stay after bearing his heart to her like that?

It was just that staying meant stripping away Flynn Rider and letting Eugene Fitzherbert see the light of day for the first time in a long time. Which was scary, because Eugene had been covered in cobwebs and dust.

Years ago, Flynn Rider would've _jumped_ at the chance to kick his feet up and live in the palace, eating from the silver spoon of a royal, lavish lifestyle. Flynn would stay for his own selfish reasons, to fulfill an agenda he'd crafted since his youth. But when _Eugene_ had made the decision to stay here with Rapunzel, it'd had nothing to do with money, and everything to do with her. That was why he'd asked the king for a job, so he wouldn't have to be referred to as the official palace freeloader, or just 'the princess's boyfriend.' That way, he'd have some kind of purpose. Eugene had needed that, in the wake of giving up _his entire identity to be with her._ Because if he wasn't Flynn Rider anymore, Eugene hadn't been sure _what_ his purpose was.

Of course, with time, he'd realized that his ultimate purpose in life was to just love her.

Now, with his feet dangling over the edge of the castle wall, Eugene considers how that new purpose, _that new dream_ , has been stripped away from him, too. He counts each of the small boats tied to the docks, which look no bigger than ants from his high vantage point. He takes a long pull from the bottle of liquor he'd brought to the hidden ledge with him – the same bottle he'd stowed away under his bed for special occasions.

If agonizing and moping around over a girl wasn't a special occasion for Eugene, he wasn't sure _what_ was.

As he stares at the waves, watching as they lap against the docks again and again, Eugene thinks about that night in the harbor, on the boat with Rapunzel – the way the lantern light had reflected upon the harbor, turning the still, glassy water a warm, golden color. He remembers the way her face had lit up brighter than all of the lanterns combined, caught up in the moment of her greatest dream coming true. Eugene considers the moment he'd leaned into her, his steady hand guiding her by the neck, gently pulling her closer – the way he'd been only a breath away from kissing her, but hadn't.

He'd lost that beautiful moment forever, all because he'd been too caught up in a dream that wasn't even his anymore.

So much had changed since that night. _Eugene_ had changed. Now, Eugene _knows_ what it's like to kiss her. He knows what it's like to do much _more_ than kiss her. He knows what it's like to love her, to be loved by her, to make love to her. Now, he also knows what it's like to try to live without her. He finally knows how it feels to have that deep void filled in his heart, to receive a love that was so gentle, so innocent, yet so passionate and real _._

Eugene recalls with irritation what Lance had said that morning: _'She's married, man. You have to let her go. You've gotta give her a shot at a happy life with this guy. She can't have that if you're rolling around in the sheets with her.'_

Maybe Eugene's former partner-in-crime was right – maybe it was time to let her go. Maybe he'd been rewarded one good year for saving her from that tower (although, more than anything, she'd really saved _him_ ). Maybe the whole 'happily ever after' thing just wasn't in the cards for someone like him. As much as he'd tried, Eugene wasn't really cut out for palace life, for its rules and regulations, never belonged here among the stuffy, high-collared nobles.

Maybe he was just lucky enough to experience such a love as hers, if only for a little while.

And maybe it made Eugene really selfish that he was trying so hard to hold onto that, to her. When clearly, the universe was telling him that it was time to let go, telling him that his time in the palace had reached its inevitable expiration. After all, she would be in deep shit if anyone found out about last night, and the last thing Eugene wants is to be the reason Rapunzel gets into trouble –with her parents, with the council, with Charles.

Eugene was feeling positively guilty about the whole thing, and he _hated_ feeling guilty.

Now, despite how much energy he'd put into turning his life around, the universe would find its daily entertainment in emotionally kicking the living shit out of him, by giving him a little taste of her, before ripping it away all over again. Eugene had gotten to experience true love, to know what it felt like to have that void in his little orphan heart be filled, overflowed even – before it had been taken away from him just as quickly as it had come, and that void in his heart sucked dry once again.

Because orphans don't deserve love, and thieves can never keep it.

Thieves just let everything run through their hands like water. And maybe that's all he would ever be: a thief who never would've been able to hold onto the princess.

"Gonna keep that all to yourself, Fitzherbert?"

Eugene jumps at the sudden voice, dragging him from the deep tunnels of his thoughts. He scrambles to cap the bottle of alcohol, trying to hide it under his thigh.

"Hey, don't stop on my account."

Cassandra's standing there in the open window, a knowing smile on her lips. She swipes the bottle from Eugene's hands, climbing over the windowsill to drop down beside him on the ledge, dangling her feet next to his. She takes a swig that would've been unfit for any other lady-in-waiting, grimacing a little as the strong liquid goes down. She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand before wordlessly passing the bottle back to Eugene. He takes a drink for himself, eyeing her closely.

A long silence ensues before Cassandra loudly clears her throat.

"So. You finally did the dirty deed, huh? Honestly, you held out _a lot_ longer than I thought you would."

Eugene looks to her with a blank expression before taking another long swig.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She scoffs, stealing the bottle away again.

"Hey –"

"Well, at least you're a better liar than Rapunzel. It was written all over her face this morning. She may as well have had: 'I'm not a virgin anymore' scrawled across her forehead in red paint."

"I have never had sexual intercourse with that girl."

"Come on, Eugene. You can't lie to me. I know everything."

"I know. And it's actually _really_ freaky sometimes."

Cassandra leans her back against the stone palace wall to look at him all the way. Staring at Eugene closely, she silently lets him know that their usual banter won't do today.

"Who else knows?"

"Just Lance." Eugene swallows another mouthful of liquor, washing the misery he feels down with it. "I hope."

"And you're sure he's going to keep that big mouth of his shut?"

"I trust him." Eugene tips the bottle to his lips once more with a nonchalant shrug, pausing. "Just like Rapunzel trusts _you_ to keep yours shut."

Cassandra crosses her arms and Eugene knows she means business now. Not that he's afraid of her or anything.

"If this keeps happening, and I'm guessing it will, what with your lack of self-control or any sense of personal accountability, someone's going to catch you eventually, someone you _can't_ trust. You know that, don't you?"

Eugene only shrugs.

Of course he knows that. He and Rapunzel are bound to get caught sooner or later, if this little escapade of theirs actually continues. He'd known it since the moment she'd sat on his bed last night. He'd known the risk of their behavior, the potential consequence that it heeded. And yet, maybe because of that lack of self-control that Cassandra so elegantly pointed out, Eugene had done it anyway.

And now he was drowning himself in self-pity, _because_ of that lack of self-control.

"Probably."

Cassandra scoffs at his dull response, rolling her eyes.

"And why am I not surprised that you don't care?"

Eugene looks to his love's best friend, growing slightly irate at the insinuation that it wouldn't matter to him if they _did_ get caught, if Rapunzel did get in trouble for this extramarital affair of theirs. Cassandra's judgmental facial expression was just so… _annoying_. At least Lance tried to hide his judgment, if only a little.

Of course Eugene cared, but he couldn't just push Rapunzel away. It was too hard. What did Cassandra know, anyway? It's not like sheknew anything about being madly in love.

"What else do I have to lose at this point, Cassandra? I've lost the only thing that's ever really mattered to me."

"That's true. I mean, you already have no dignity, no morals, no brains..."

"Okay, _okay_. Did you really just come here to kick me while I'm already down? Because you're pretty good at that, and I'm definitely not in the mood today."

"I'm just trying to make the point that wallowing in self-pity isn't your best look." Cassandra glances sideways, carefully gauging his reaction, not wanting his ego to inflate. "Not that you have a _good_ look."

"Okay, Little Miss Always Pissed Off. You're going to intrude on _my_ secret hiding spot, give me a lecture about _my_ own sex life, drink _my_ alcohol, and then insult my _impeccable_ appearance?"

Cassandra sighs at that comment, hard.

"Look, I just don't want… _anyone_ … to get hurt. Any more than they already have."

Eugene sets the bottle down on the ledge with a hard /clink/, its contents sloshing about, as a shock-filled laugh bubbles up in his chest.

"Cassandra! You're _worried_ about me!"

The lady-in-waiting rolls her eyes, reaching again for the bottle, but Eugene quickly pulls it out of her reach before she has the chance to grab it.

"Am _not_."

"Are so! You're worried about what will happen to me if I get caught with Rapunzel! You're worried that I'll get kicked out of the palace, because _you_ would _miss_ me!"

"I don't care about what happens to _you_ , you dork, I care about Rapunzel." Well, that was a little bit of a lie, but she wasn't about to tell him that, lest that ego of his balloon again. "If you get kicked out, she'll be all… clingy and sad." Cassandra makes a face, sticking her tongue out in disgust. "And I don't _do_ clingy and sad. I've _been_ doing clingy and sad for three months now. I don't need her to get in trouble for fooling around with you. Because that means _I'll_ get in trouble. And I'm not getting in trouble for you of all people."

Eugene brings the bottle to his lips once more, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Just admit that you care about me and move on."

"In your dreams, powderpuff."

They sit there on the ledge, admiring the kingdom below, not saying anything, passing the bottle back and forth. A long while passes before Eugene breaks the silence again.

"Hey, did you see what Charles was wearing today?

"Yeah. He looked like an absolute idiot. He looks like even more of an idiot than you usually do, which I never thought I'd be able to say about anyone."

The two of them bask there in the silence for a long time after that. They bask in the silence of their mutual love for one special princess and their mutual hate of one arrogant prince. Their feet dangle over the ledge as the sun empties its final rays of light into the sky, as the bottle empties into their bellies to keep them warm.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi, my dear Tangled lovers! Today's featured song is… Don't Blame Me by Tyler Ward! It's a cover, actually, of a Taylor Swift song, and a longtime favorite of mine. But, when listening to the Tyler Ward version this past week, I realized the song has such Eugene vibes when presented by a male singer. Lyrics such as:
> 
> I've been breaking hearts a long time  
> And toying with them other girls, just playthings for me to use  
> Something happened for the first time in the darkest little paradise  
> Shaking, pacing, I just need you
> 
> ALSO, the following line: "I once was poison ivy, but now I'm your daisy"
> 
> You're telling me that's NOT Eugene Fitzherbert referring to how he's changed for his princess? I simply pictured this song playing in the background of one of the scenes that commences below, so see if you can figure out which! Long story short, if you're interested, check out the song and let me know if it relates to Eugene as much as I think it does.
> 
> Okay, I digress. Enjoy this chapter that is Rated M for… reasons.

**Chapter 8: Marriage is Just Another Word for Lifelong Chains**

Prince Charles despises men like Flynn Rider – Eugene Fitzherbert – _whatever_ the guy's real name is.

Charles had certainly heard of the thief before – well, when he'd still carried his former identity, before he'd started going by a name as hideous as _Eugene Fitzherbert_. If it were Charles, he would've stuck with the whole Flynn Rider moniker – at least it had made him _sound_ cool.

The prince had seen the wanted signs, the ones that had been splattered across every storefront window and stapled to every wooden door in his kingdom – _just_ in case the infamous thief who'd stolen the Lost Princess of Corona's crown had decided to take cover in another country. Maddoline was no stranger to Flynn Rider's escapades, either – he'd spent a few months there, terrorizing the local population with his petty heists.

Anticlimactically, Rider had gotten caught for precisely _zero_ of his crimes, and had Charles's father, the king, ready to sign a death warrant if given the chance. It had been unlikely that the thief would flee to Maddoline territory in the wake of stealing Corona's most precious memento, kept to commemorate their lost princess, what with how long it would take to get there on foot, and how despised he was in the region. But, the notion hadn't been entirely impossible, and the citizens of Maddoline would have loved to see Flynn Rider behind bars just as much as Corona's. There had been a sizable bounty on Rider's head – the signs had read, 'Wanted: Dead or Alive.' Then, he suddenly shows up _with_ the lost princess, claiming to be in love with her, claiming he's committed to turning over a new leaf _within days of knowing her?_

It all sounded a little shady to Charles, but he really wasn't one to pry.

Charles hadn't expected Rider – Eugene – to be there at the palace, hadn't realized that the man standing there in the council meeting that first day he'd arrived in Corona, was the same person as the notorious thief. Needless to say, Charles had been shocked when the ex-thief had introduced himself, his hand wrapped around the princess's waist – his promised future _wife's_ waist.

Regardless, Eugene strikes Charles as the kind of guy that has bedded a lot of women, manipulated a lot of men to get exactly what he wants, and yet, somehow always finds a way to come out of a shitstorm smelling like roses. After all, the guy had punched him in the face at a ball thrown to celebrate _his_ marriage to the princess. The ex-thief, guard, princess's boyfriend – _whatever_ he was – hadn't been so much as punished for such inappropriate, unsanctified actions. It was clear that the man had learned nothing of noble, respectable behavior after spending an entire year in the palace.

If Charles were king, instead of future Queen Consort (which, he hoped he would be, if he played his cards right here in Corona), he would've sent the Fitzherbert fellow right out on his ass after the performance he'd given at the engagement ball. Eugene, Prince Charles thinks to himself, must have everyone in the kingdom of Corona _but_ him under some kind of ridiculous spell.

There was really no other feasible explanation as to why a convicted criminal with an extensive rap sheet had been allowed to not only reside in the palace as an employee, but carry out a serious, long-term relationship with the _princess_. The princess that he surely has corrupted before Charles ever could've gotten his hands on her.

None of it makes a shred of sense.

The Maddolineon prince squints against the rays of the early morning sun, watching from his balcony as Eugene marches along the castle wall, a sword dangling from his hip, donning a sharp red uniform. This older man is so full of himself, so untrustworthy, so... unconditionally _adored_ by the princess. It was plain as day, written all over Princess Rapunzel's face whenever she was in the same room as the former thief: she was in love with him.

It was completely mindboggling to Charles. He'd been a _thief_ , of all things. The man had _stolen her crown._ The only reason they'd met was because of Fitzherbert's selfish, lowlife tendencies.

And she'd _still_ fallen in love with him. Was the princess seriously that gullible?

It wasn't lost on Charles that the princess had experienced a less than typical upbringing. If she was a bit gullible, could he really _blame_ her? It also wasn't lost on Charles that the princess hadn't wanted anything to do with him since he'd arrived here at the palace three short months ago. Sure, she was a kind, sweet girl, and definitely pretty enough — a little feisty when she wanted to be, but clearly caring and genuine by nature. He liked that about her. He liked a woman who treated others with respect, because that was the behavior expected of any future queen. Charles understood the dynamic of her past – at least, from as much information as he could piece together, with what he'd gathered from the council and the hushed gossip that typically swirled amongst the palace staff.

He'd actually been impressed with how smart and witty the princess had turned out to be, because frankly, he hadn't expected much from her in that department, not after being filled in on her strange life story.

Considering her surprising whit, what Charles couldn't comprehend was why the princess had been so apprehensive to marry him, why she'd kicked and screamed to the council for _weeks_ about the whole affair. Thankfully for him, she'd finally given up and accepted her fate when the council had refused to back out of the legal agreement settled with the Maddoline kingdom.

Charles understood that the marriage had been unexpected, but arranged marriages happen all the time in their line of work. It was practically a birth right as a royal. Sure, she hadn't been walking in royal shoes for very long, but her parents must have explained such expectations to her, hadn't they? The princess's parents had been arranged in marriage, after all. His own parents had been as well, and they seemed to like one another. If anything, there was at least mutual admiration and respect present between the two parties.

Princess Rapunzel had made it very clear, upon Charles's arrival, that there would _not_ be any mutual admiration throughout their three month courtship leading up to the wedding, if you could even _call_ it a courtship. It was obvious that she only spent time with him when she absolutely had to, and their conversations never went beyond small talk, and bland discussions about the weather. She was always peeking over her shoulder, always looking toward the door – never giving the prince her full, undivided attention – as if expecting _him_ to walk in, to whisk her away. This really frustrated Charles, because he wasn't sure how he was supposed to be married to someone if they were always too busy lusting after someone else.

After all, he'd come all this way, had agreed to leave his entire _life_ behind in Maddoline, only to be greeted by an incredibly cold and ungrateful shoulder. If Charles could make a few sacrifices for his kingdom, why couldn't the princess do the same for hers? Charles understood that Rapunzel had already been in love with someone else when he'd arrived, that she had spent the majority of her life manipulated and naïve. He'd even felt a little guilty for bursting the young princess's bubble, for dragging her from her fairytale world.

But that's just what it was – a bubble, a fairytale. The princess had been living in a bubble of delusion, and her parents had let her. She was _lucky_ that he had arrived and shown her the reality of her situation, the reality of what it means to be a princess. Had she really thought she'd be allowed to marry a commoner, let alone a _convicted_ _thief_? Arranged marriages amongst noble families formed generations-long alliances, built economies, and typically allowed both parties to reap sizable benefits. Didn't the princess understand that letting go of her boyfriend was worth feeling a little teenage heartbreak, when that heartbreak would bring her entire _country_ success and much-needed good fortune?

It all seemed a bit selfish of her, really.

Princess Rapunzel could fall in love with a thief, but not with him? Charles is accomplished, rich, and a _prince_ , for crying out loud — not to mention the far superior looking of the two men – not that he liked to brag. Despite how much it irked Charles, Corona's adored princess _clearly_ still held a flame for the thief-turned-palace-guard, a flame that still burned steady and bright, even after the marriage was finalized.

A flame that Charles needed to snuff out as soon as possible.

Only one week into their marriage, and Charles had only kissed Rapunzel once, on their wedding day at the ceremony, and that had been no more than a half-hearted peck. It was embarrassing, really, the way she'd rejected him on their wedding night. Women _never_ rejected him. And for the rejection to come from his very own wife? Charles had never felt a slap in the face that stung quite so hard – it had hurt even worse than when Eugene had punched him square in the nose. Truly, Charles was receiving far more abuse here in Corona than he deserved, and it was about time that it came to an end.

Charles knows he shouldn't be surprised – he shouldn't be surprised that she hadn't wanted to sleep with him, not when _Eugene_ is still around, luring her in. The prince had always pictured his wedding night as a frenzy of clothes being thrown to the floor, a lust-filled experience of tangled limbs and hot kisses. Instead, the princess had wordlessly changed out of her fancy white dress and into a rather modest nightgown, scooted to the very edge of the bed, and went to sleep. To _sleep_. Just like that, as if he didn't even exist.

It was absolutely unacceptable.

Charles wasn't stupid and he surely wasn't blind. He knew what, or more so, _who_ was keeping the princess just out of his grasp, the reason she was purposefully keeping herself at arm's length. She was so close to him, sleeping in his _bed_ every night, yet emotionally so far away. He knew Rapunzel hadn't _wanted_ to be with him, hadn't seen it coming, even. His arrival had clearly blindsided her completely, and he understood that she'd need some time to adjust to the idea of him.

He'd been nothing but patient with her. But it had already been three months, and Charles so wished that the princess could just _let go_ of this rash, violent ex-boyfriend of hers already. Better yet, that Eugene would take a hint and leave the palace, or that someone with a _rational mind_ would kick the former thief out.

How was their marriage ever supposed to blossom with an ex-love lingering around?

And Charles _tried_ with her. God, he tried. But it were as though she had no intention of trying back. Why would she, when Fitzherbert's hands were still wrapped around her delicate neck? (Metaphorically speaking, of course). The ex-thief was like… like a _venom_ that had taken over her young, impressionable mind, twisting her insides, and making her nearly impossible to talk to.

In all honesty, the princess was delightful, a fairly cheerful girl on her own account, but a desperately _distracted_ girl.

But Charles would fix that, with time.

It was just so… _maddening_ , though, knowing that his wife wanted someone that wasn't him. The princess would flinch every time Charles went to hold her hand, every time he leaned in to kiss her goodnight. She was married to _him_ now. There are certain expectations that a married woman is expected to fulfill, and such expectations start in the bedroom. There would be no room left there for former flames, not when there were endless duties to attend to, successors to make, and a kingdom to be run.

Not to mention, Charles has never been one for sharing, and he doesn't like coming in second place. To anyone.

She'd disappeared until late in the night a few evenings ago. The princess had claimed that she'd 'lost track of time reading in the library' when he'd questioned her about her disappearance. Despite the princess's otherwise plausible excuse – Charles had noticed early on how much she likes to read and learn – her face had been far too flushed, her short brunette hair far too rustled for a simple trip to the library, unless she was into reading erotica.

Which, maybe she was. Who was he to judge? After all, she'd been in a tower all her life.

Regardless, Charles, though he'd only known the princess for several months, had already picked up on quite a few of her ticks. Honestly, Princess Rapunzel wasn't very hard to see right through. The prince had quickly gathered that his new wife wasn't the most… immaculate of liars. She hadn't been able to meet his eyes when he'd asked her where she'd been the last few hours. Her voice had been nervous, strained, as if she were a young child caught with their hand in the candy dish without permission.

But he'd let his suspicions go, for now. He'd let it go, because a marriage, even an arranged one, is nothing if not built upon mutual trust and respect. Charles doesn't need to be _in love_ with the princess. He just needs to be able to rule a kingdom alongside her in the future, and he couldn't do that if he can't learn how to trust her. For this reason, Charles knows that he needs to at least _try_ to place some faith in Rapunzel's word, if he was going to be expected to spend the rest of his life with the spirited young princess of Corona.

But that doesn't mean he has to trust Eugene Fitzherbert. And he certainly wouldn't continue happily coming in second to him.

* * *

Rapunzel lies in her massive new bed, in her new bedroom, in a new wing of the palace. She stares blankly at the ceiling, her arms splayed out as though she were a beached starfish, counting the flowers she'd painted on the ceiling a few afternoons ago, teetering on the edge of a ladder to reach.

The princess allows her mind to wander and drift. She _hates_ her new bedroom. Mostly because she has to share it with Charles, and mostly because it's tucked away from everything, much farther than her old bedroom had been: farther away from her parent's room, from Cassandra, from the library. She was a married woman now, and apparently, married women need 'plenty of space with their husbands' to 'enjoy the experience of being newly-weds.' Whatever that meant.

Frankly, Rapunzel doesn't want space _with_ Charles. She wants space _from_ Charles.

This new wing of the palace, worst of all, is a lot farther from Eugene's room in the guard's quarters than her old bedroom had been. Something about that fact irks Rapunzel, deeply. This room, the room she is now expected – no, _forced_ – to share with Charles, is nothing like the bright, cheery bedroom she'd spent over a year in. This room is so big that it feels almost empty, and the walls are an elegant emerald color, not at all made to be covered in colorful paintings.

Rapunzel had convinced Eugene to create a mural with her in her previous bedroom, little paintings that would cover every inch of every wall, woven together to tell one grand story: the story of how they'd met, where they were now, and every detail in-between. They hadn't been able to finish the mural, because Charles had arrived unexpectedly at the palace in the midst of its creation, and Rapunzel had immediately been thrown into extensive wedding preparations. Sometimes, if she has a bit of free time between her morning and afternoon lessons, the princess will take a melancholic stroll to her old bedroom, if only to run a hand along the paintings Eugene had helped her with.

She'd even fallen asleep there a few times, usually in the window seat where she and Eugene had shared so many hard, heartfelt conversations. There, they'd had conversations about Gothel, conversations about how Rapunzel could heal from the trauma she'd endured for so many years, and what Eugene could do to help her through it. There, he'd consoled her after a multitude of early morning nightmares, nightmares that forced her to replay his horrific death in her head, over and over again. There, they'd discussed whether or not Eugene should stay with her in the palace, on the night they'd first arrived. Of course, he'd said he would, promising to never leave her again – promising there'd never again be a world in which they weren't together.

And look how that had turned out.

Promises, it seemed, were made to be broken lately. Now, Eugene and Rapunzel are forced to succumb to sneaking around like wonderstruck teenagers behind everyone's backs.

Those many important conversations they'd shared in the window seat replay in her mind's eye now, as Rapunzel lies there unmoving in her new, extravagant bed. Conversations about how Eugene would always protect her, how he'd always keep the things at bay that could hurt her. Because he'd died for her, and he'd do it all over again if he had to – his words, not hers. And over the course of a year, he'd done a remarkable job at keeping that promise, at helping her through her traumas, her deepest insecurities, and her initial fear that he would leave her all over again. Eugene had protected her from all that hurt, had cocooned her in his love and eager willingness to change for her.

Ironically, a lot was hurting the princess _now_ , deeply, and there wasn't much Eugene could do about it. He couldn't promise to keep this pain at bay, not when they were expected to stay away from each other. Rapunzel feels as though she's living in slow motion, being tugged this way and that, making no real decisions for herself. In all honesty, it sometimes feels as though she were back in her tower. But at least in her tower, Rapunzel had been oblivious to the hurt being done to her. How does the saying go? Ignorance is bliss? Now, she can't do anything _but_ be highly aware of the pain, pain that's a result of being all but ripped from Eugene's loving arms.

As Lance had once commented, long before Charles had arrived: "Marriage is just another word for lifelong chains."

Maybe he'd had a point, though Rapunzel knows that marriage _with Eugene_ never would've felt this suffocating.

Rapunzel considers the whirlwind of events of the previous week – the rehearsal dinner, the wedding – and the following night, when she'd snuck to Eugene's room. She'd known she shouldn't have, she'd known the trouble they could both get into if caught alone together in his room, but she couldn't help herself. The way she's missed him in these past weeks is all but eating her alive, swallowing her whole. Maybe it had been wrong, but she doesn't regret it. The princess considers every heightened emotion, every moan he'd evoked from her, every soft word he'd whispered in her ear that night.

She'd had sex.

She wasn't a virgin anymore. She'd made love to Eugene, and it had been beautiful – even more beautiful than the night he'd taken her to see the lanterns. He had been beyond patient with her, so worried about not hurting her any more than he had to. It had been far better an experience than she'd imagined it would be, better than any description Eugene had given when he'd first explained to her what sex was, so many months ago. But now… now that she knows what it feels like to love him, to love him in _that_ way, Rapunzel needs _more_. More of _him_.

As soon as physically possible.

When Eugene gets off work, after dinner with Charles and her parents, Rapunzel will go to his room, she decides. So what if it was wrong? _Everything_ was wrong lately. She should wear something different than last time, something he likes. Maybe her purple nightgown? No, that one has long sleeves and is a bit too scratchy against her skin, leaving little red marks. Maybe the blue nightdress made of soft silk? He'd always liked that one. When she'd wear it, and he'd come to her room to kiss her goodnight, Eugene would always finger the thin straps and comment on how pretty she looks in the color, before retiring to his own room for the night.

The young princess can't help but follow where her mind takes her, imagining Eugene's rough hands all over her smooth skin, needy and possessive and gentle, all at once. The way he always desperately responds to her need for _him_ makes her feel so… good. He makes her feel so loved, cherished, and safe.

When Rapunzel considers how loved she feels whenever his head is between her legs, she starts to feel positively warm and wet… _down there._ Her stomach starts to ache, but not in the 'I have to throw up' sort of way. More in the… 'I'm only human and I need satisfaction' sort of way.

Rapunzel hears the massive oak doors of her bedroom creak open, dragging her from the deep depths of her naughty thoughts about Eugene. She jumps and looks to the heavy doors, quickly scrambling from the bed when she sees _Charles_ entering the room.

She doesn't know why she's surprised at his appearance; it _is_ his bedroom too, after all.

_Okay, Rapunzel, just act natural. Whatever you do, act like you weren't just thinking about how much you want to have sex. With Eugene. Again._

"Hello, Rapunzel." Charles greets her, a little too politely. Rapunzel likes how Eugene always calls her Blondie or Sunshine, or some other endearing nickname he'd concocted. Charles is always so stiff, so _professional_ , his hands placed formally behind his back – a far cry from the jovial ex-thief she'd grown so accustomed to. "How are you feeling on this fine day? I noticed that you were already gone this morning when I awoke."

The blonde prince smiles, and for the first time, she notices the way the smile actually reaches his eyes. Maybe he was really trying to get to know her. Rapunzel smiles nervously back, unsure of how to stand or what to do in his presence. She'd never quite gotten comfortable around Charles, and was afraid she never would – not when she has Eugene to compare him to.

Rapunzel shrugs, trying her best _not_ to think about Eugene.

"I'm an early riser, I suppose. I like to wake up early to paint, or go to the library –"

"You surely enjoy the library, don't you? It seems like you spend a lot of your free time there."

Was he insinuating something? Was he suspicious about the other night, about the excuse she'd provided when he'd questioned why she'd come to bed so late? Or was he just trying to make conversation and understand the workings of her daily life?

Yeah, maybe that's all it was. After all, they are _married_ now. Married couples talk about their days with one another.

"Yeah, I-I do. I enjoy reading a lot, actually."

An awkward silence hangs between the young prince and princess, before Charles clears his throat, speaking again.

Couldn't he just leave her in peace to daydream about –

"So… I saw _Eugene_ this morning, in passing." Charles speaks politely, but slightly sneers the name of her love. The prince had been _spying_ on the guy, more accurately, but she doesn't need to know that. "Have _you_ seen much of him lately?"

Rapunzel tries her best to keep a straight face, despite the blush she can feel creeping up her neck at the sound of his name, her body betraying her deepest, most private thoughts.

_Oh, God. He_ _**definitely** _ _knows something. He must! Why else would he bring up Eugene, when he knows what a touchy subject it is? Hasn't he been paying any attention these last three months? Act natural, Rapunzel, act natural –_

"Oh. I mean… no, not really. I don't really get to see him…" She swallows nervously, feeling her throat grow tight. "Anymore."

That wasn't _totally_ a lie. In the three months leading up to the wedding, Rapunzel really _hadn't_ been able to see much of Eugene. If you didn't count their little slip up last week, in which she'd seen _a lot_ of him in one night, she'd been completely faithful to her new husband.

Well… sort of. If you didn't count the emotional cheating, either.

"Okay." Charles responds simply, seemingly satisfied with her answer, a wide, almost forced smile returning to his face. "Well, I'll see you this evening for dinner… dear." He moves forward, pressing an awkward kiss to her forehead before quickly exiting the bedroom.

Once the stuffy prince she must call her husband is gone, probably returning to his lessons which will prepare him to become Queen Consort someday, Rapunzel wipes his saliva from her forehead, not wanting any miniscule part of the prince to be on her body. She drops her face into her hands with a long groan, knowing that her life has become utterly complicated.

She also knows that she needs to see Eugene as soon as possible, before she absolutely loses every shred of her remaining sanity.

* * *

Eugene braces his hand against the stone shower wall, sighing in relief that the long work day is over. With the other hand, he pushes back his damp hair, letting the boiling water drum upon his sore shoulders. All he wants to do is wash off this whole day, watch it swirl down the drain.

Nothing in particular had happened today, only that Eugene had spent the majority of his shift wallowing, questioning whether or not he should even _stay_ here in the palace, and replaying having sex with Rapunzel over and over again.

Okay, so he was a little horny, and that had made his day extra-long. He was only human.

Eugene stands there in the spray for a long time, contemplating how he'd made such a mess of his life in a mere twenty-five years. He had thought he'd really turned things around for good this time, gotten on the right path, with Rapunzel's help of course. He had to give credit where credit was due — she was the only reason he'd been doing anything _remotely_ right for a year.

Now, it just feels like he's back at square one all over again, going through the motions of being an utterly empty, unsatisfied man. The only difference is, he definitely isn't as cool as Flynn Rider anymore. He wasn't exactly the old Eugene, either, the frightened orphan who just wanted _someone_ to love him, _anyone_.

He was Weird In-Between Eugene now, as he'd labeled it, someone with attributes from both personas – the charm, sarcasm, and somewhat bloated ego of Flynn, with the caring, gentle-hearted, and unconditional love of Eugene. Not to mention the totally new attributes he'd gained since knowing Rapunzel, like consistency, and always looking on the bright side, no matter how doomed a given situation may seem.

Now, what with the unavoidable doom of Rapunzel being _married_ _to another man_ _forever_ , it was a little hard to grasp onto that positive perspective she'd always pushed him to maintain. Eugene isn't really sure who he's supposed to be, where he's supposed to go from here, and the unknowingness of it all is leaving him quite depressed and confused. Should he leave the palace, try to find a job somewhere else, give Rapunzel a chance at happiness with the prince? Eugene supposes, he could always return to a life of crime, as Lance had so biased suggested. It probably wouldn't be _that_ hard to get into the saddle again, even if he is a little out of shape.

Although, being on an island alone, surrounded by enormous piles of money, just isn't nearly as appealing as it used to be. Probably because Rapunzel wouldn't be there to enjoy it with him, to comment on how good the warm sand feels on her bare feet, or to remind him that good fortune doesn't mean anything if you don't have someone to share it with.

Scratch the island. Eugene could always find a way to get Prince Charles thrown into the doghouse, to get the council to hate the annoying prince as much as they hate _him_. Better yet, Eugene could just get _rid_ of the prince altogether. That would surely solve Eugene's current predicament, in which his beloved princess had been snatched from his arms, metaphorically speaking.

Prince Charles was his current problem, the root of _all_ of Eugene's problems. If Charles wasn't in the way, life would go back to the way it was: all sunshine and rainbows and make out sessions with Rapunzel that didn't involve her getting into trouble – well, not as _much_ trouble as she'd be in if they got caught now.

Eugene knew a guy, someone he'd met as a result of a black-market dealing, a man who knew how to make people disappear, for cheap. Eugene could find the guy, scrape some money together, and —

"You look really deep in thought."

Eugene jumps, nearly slipping on the wet stone.

"Shit, Blondie, you scared the crap out of me! What're you doing, you can't be in here!"

"I couldn't stay away." Rapunzel shrugs, stepping over to him, joining Eugene under the steaming spray.

God, she's _naked_. Very, very naked.

She must get off on torturing him or something.

"You said that _last_ time." Eugene chides her.

Last time, when she'd snuck down here the previous week, and they'd made forbidden, passionate love the night after her _wedding_. Eugene knows he's walking a very dangerous path, one he's sure will cause him to stumble and fall into the deep, dark ditch.

But once again, just like he _knew_ he wouldn't, Eugene doesn't have the strength within him to actually tell her to go.

_Damn it, Rapunzel. Can't you just… stop making me_ _**want** _ _you so badly, all the time?_

"And you told me I needed to learn how to." Rapunzel replies, rolling her eyes, as if the sentiment is completely ridiculous.

The princess is in an exceptionally spunky mood this evening, if Eugene has ever seen her in one. He wonders what might have triggered it, but thinks better of it than to ask. They both have a lot of reasons to need some… short-lived relief lately.

Rapunzel rests her hands on her hips, and Eugene tries to hold back a laugh, because she's just so darn cute when she's trying to be serious.

"I stopped myself from coming down here for like, five days, and it was really hard to do. That has to count for something."

"You _do_ need to learn how to stay away." Taking a bar of soap and rubbing it in his hands until bubbles have formed all over them, Eugene lathers each of Rapunzel's arms gently. "Just five days isn't gonna cut it, Princess. We're supposed to stay away from each other _forever_ , remember? Ya know, because _marriage_ is supposed to last forever?"

"Maybe I'll try again tomorrow." Rapunzel responds nonchalantly, as if he'd asked her to learn Latin or something of the sort.

Although, he supposes, she probably already _has_ learned Latin in her fancy princess lessons. She reaches for the shampoo, and starts to lather some of it into her short hair.

"Maybe tomorrow, huh." Eugene easily places a hand above the princess's head on the wall beside her, blocking her from moving, so she can't look away from him. "And what if someone sees you sneaking around down here again _tonight_? Do you have a plan for that, oh warrior princess?"

Rapunzel scoffs at the new nickname, answering the question easily.

"I'll just tell them I was getting advice from Lance. About what to do during a horrid, nasty breakup."

Eugene blinks, trying to hold back a chuckle.

"And you really think anyone would believe that?"

Rapunzel shrugs, rinsing the shampoo from her hair.

"Maybe. He must've had girlfriends before he showed up at the palace, didn't he? You did."

"I didn't have 'girlfriends.'" Eugene mutters under his breath, soaping his own body.

Eugene has had plenty of _playthings_ , sure. But Rapunzel was his first genuine girlfriend, the only woman he'd ever loved. Okay, he'd been in one or two long-term _ish_ relationships before, if you wanted to call them that, but he'd _never_ been in love. Any relationship he'd had as Flynn Rider had only been to gain something for himself, to selfishly meet an end that the girl could somehow help him arrive at, an end that usually had to do with money. Eugene wasn't proud of that, not anymore anyway, but that's just the kind of person Flynn Rider was.

Regardless of his questionable past, his extensive record of one-sided relationships and one-night stands, Rapunzel is the only person Eugene has truly taken seriously, and the only person who has ever taken him seriously right back. Seriously enough to make him want to change the entire course of his life for her.

And he couldn't even get that right.

Shaking his head, Eugene continues with the matter at hand.

"So, what am I going to have to do to keep you away from me, Blondie? Put a deadbolt on my door? Move to a different wing of the palace and not tell you about it?"

She giggles a little, as if the notion is absolutely absurd.

"I'd just figure it out if you did that, Eugene."

"Rapunzel," Eugene places a hand on either side of her face, looking her straight in the eye, hoping she'll receive the message – and hoping that his own brain will hear it, too. Maybe if he hears it out loud, he'll actually believe himself, and have the strength to start sending her away when she shows up unexpectedly like this.

He'd thought he would've learned his lesson after feeling like a pathetic, guilt-ridden stress ball the day after they'd had sex. And every day since then.

"I will not have a dragged out, adulterous love affair with you."

Rapunzel thinks on his words for a moment, tilting her head in a way that isn't anything less than adorable. Why does she always have to be so… _cute_? It makes it really hard for him to be serious, to keep his promise to himself to stay away from her.

"Why not?" Rapunzel asks, in that way of hers that makes her come off so painfully innocent, he has to wonder if she's joking or not.

Hadn't anyone ever taught her what the word _cheating_ means?

"Be…cause… because it's wrong, Rapunzel! And manipulative and sneaky! And I'm kind of trying _not_ to be that person anymore. And you forcing me to sneak around like this is sort of bringing back old tendencies that I've been trying really hard to suppress for over a year now!" Eugene recoils from his own outburst and sighs. "You know, we're just going to end up more hurt than we started if we continue doing this."

"Don't pretend you don't kind of like it." Rapunzel crosses her arms with a bit of a huff, pushing her bare breasts together, and he swears she knows exactly what she's doing. "All the sneaking around and the possibility of getting caught. Your past self would've thrived off this stuff."

"I mean, I guess it depends on how you look at it —"

" _Exactly_! I love you, and you love me. And as much as you say you've changed, which of course, you really have, there's still a little part of you," She reaches up, trailing two fingers up Eugene's chest before placing them over his heart. "That likes sneaking around. Because sneaking around together is fun."

Well, she makes a good point, he'll give her that. But Eugene has to at least _try_ to be the sensible, responsible one here.

Eugene never thought a time in his life would come in which _he_ would have to be responsible.

"It doesn't matter if it's _fun_ , Rapunzel. It's still wrong. It's wrong to lust after someone who's married. It's one of the cardinal sins, for goodness sake!"

She stares up at him, blinking a few times.

"So… you're lusting after me now?"

"Ugh!" Eugene slaps a hand to his forehead in frustration, as if the way his dick is standing straight up right now at the mere sight of her in his shower, isn't answer enough to that question.

"When did you start caring about your sins? You've done plenty of bad things in your life. What makes this so different?"

Eugene feels horrible, because she understands that what they're doing is wrong, she just doesn't quite understand _why_ it's wrong.

"I started caring pretty much the day that I met you, Blondie. And it's different because I don't want to be the reason you get in trouble."

"I can't get in trouble if we don't get caught."

"I thought we already established that's pretty unavoidable."

"I like the old Eugene better." Rapunzel pouts her lip. "The fun Eugene. You were fun when I first met you."

"And I like the old Rapunzel better. _The not married Rapunzel_." Eugene retorts. "But we can't all get what we want, now can we, Princess?"

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Eugene does like this back-and-forth bickering they've had going lately, the kind that's sure to lead to desperate moans and lots of kissing.

"We can get what we want." Rapunzel concludes with a seductive look in her eye, pressing her naked body against his, and wrapping an arm around his neck. Her fingers sink into his damp hair, and Eugene freezes. Her voice lowers with every word, and he is instantly hanging on to each one – because he's a sucker, putty in her little hands. She's pushed herself onto the tips of her toes, inching her mouth closer to his as she speaks.

Despite his efforts (which are half-hearted, at best) to pull away, Eugene ignores the voice screaming in his head, _'Make her leave, you adulterous fool!'_

"If we're careful, and quick, and really… _really_ quiet." Rapunzel finishes, her lips brushing his as the whispered, naughty words leave her mouth.

_Oh, fucking hell._

Without a second thought, his hands are on either side of her face, roughly pushing her against the stone wall, only because he's been plagued by the thought of doing so all day long. Eugene kisses her deeply, deliberately, and sure enough, one of those delicious little moans rises in her throat, escaping into his mouth as she kisses him back with a matched passion.

"We really have to stop doing this." Eugene reaches down, breathless, pushing a finger between her legs, desperate for some kind of satisfaction, any kind. Rapunzel's eyes flutter shut at his touch, because she's imagined this all day, too. Her head tilts against the shower wall as the princess spreads her legs a little wider for him, inviting him to that soft, warm, _tight_ place Eugene knows he _needs_ to stay far away from. But he can't stop himself from giving in to her, because she's like some sort of highly addictive drug.

Like she said, maybe they'd try to stay away from each other again tomorrow. _Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good._

"This will be the last time." She says, but Rapunzel's voice has gone shaky and weak, and he knows it's not true.

"I have a really hard time believing that."

Mostly because the wetness coating his finger, the telltale sign that she _wants_ him, sends a lust through Eugene's body – a lust so big that he knows this thing between them won't be over tomorrow, no matter how hard they try to stay away from each other. Lame as it sounds coming from a man who'd spent most of his life trying to seem as masculine and capable as he could, Eugene isn't strong enough to stop it. He's not strong enough to send her away, regardless of any guilt or shame he may feel for it tomorrow. Because he loves her, because he wants her back.

Because if she's sneaking around with him, she can't be busy making successors for the crown with Charles.

And Eugene's heart, as well as his ego, just can't handle the thought of that happening.

"Then don't believe it. Let's be honest with ourselves, Eugene, just for a second." Rapunzel opens her heavy eyes, looking right at him as he continues to pump his finger inside of her all the while they're trying to, in a state of clear delusion, convince themselves they won't do this again after tonight. That after tonight, this _need_ will be out of their systems, and they won't have to want each other so badly.

God, she's speaking with her face so close to his, Eugene can smell that intoxicating lavender scent again. She literally has him under her spell, doing her bidding for her, giving her everything he knows she wants.

All he's taught her in the past year has created a monster.

Eugene feels like a pathetic fool for it, but right now, with her voice all weak because of what he's doing between her legs, he doesn't care. He'll be a fool, for her, if only for a little while, if it means those little moans will keep falling from her mouth.

Rapunzel continues, panting quietly between her words.

"We're going to do this until we get caught. We're going to ride this train until it falls off the tracks. Because I can't stay away from you, Eugene, and as much as you might hate yourself for it, you're not going to stay away from me. You know it, and I know it."

"A horrible decision, really. Especially if we know our getting caught is inevitable."

"Normally, I would agree with you completely." She kisses him once, long and slow, before continuing. "But I like making horrible decisions when it's you I get to make them with."

Rapunzel is right. Eugene _does_ hate himself for loving this, for being the reason she's so _okay_ with keeping secrets. It's a dark part of him that he's been trying so hard to shove deep down lately, but can't. Because he's incredibly fascinated by the thought of this sweet princess doing bad things for his sake.

Eugene can't deny it — the thought of getting caught makes everything between them suddenly so much darker, sexier, so… _forbidden_. Knowing that he shouldn't have her, but seeing her standing here shaking before him anyway, is the ultimate turn-on.

But before Eugene can get around to more of those bad decisions they've been talking about, he's pulling his hand from between her legs, covering her mouth with the other. She looks up at him in surprise, her eyes grown large at the sudden interruption. Eugene motions to the petite, soaked princess is his arms to be quiet, pressing a finger to his lips, listening. He pulls her tight against him, willing her to hold still, placing a reassuring kiss to her forehead.

After years of living a life that was built around thievery, Eugene had better hearing than anyone he knew – mostly because he'd almost gotten shanked a time or two in the middle of the night, but those were stories for another time. Despite the little sounds of pleasure that had been falling from Rapunzel's mouth only moments before, Eugene could've sworn he'd heard his bedroom door open, a shuffle of feet through the room.

"Eugene… are you here?"

Rapunzel's eyes are big as saucers now, because she recognizes that voice, and so does he.

"Y-yeah, I'm just... in the shower!" Eugene calls back, his heart dropping to his feet.

 _Shit_.

The heavy footsteps proceed, before stopping just outside the bathroom door. King Frederic clears his throat, as if he's unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry for barging in like this, son... I know it's late. But I just wanted to… well, I wanted to know how… you were doing. I've felt— well, I've felt horrible since everything that's happened with Rapunzel. I know how the two of you feel about one another, and I feel that I'm the one to blame for –"

"It's okay!" Eugene hastily calls over the spray, praying the king won't drag the conversation out for too long. Not because he doesn't like the king, but mostly because his naked daughter is pressed against the former thief, and the king would have his neck on the hanging block in no time if he knew that.

And great, now she's dropping to her knees. _Why the_ _ **hell**_ _is she doing that?_

"Really, no grudges here!"

Eugene means it — he genuinely likes the king, he always has, and the two had formed a bit of a fatherly-son bond in the past year. Which is probably why Eugene feels a disgusting wash of guilt settling in his stomach at the current scene before him.

He really _doesn't_ hold a grudge against King Frederic for Rapunzel's unexpected marriage, and despite his colored past, the king and queen had been nothing but good to Eugene. They'd trusted him with their daughter, given him a job, a warm bed to sleep in, three meals a day, and the consistent, structured family unit that he'd always yearned for. Sure, Eugene thought there was more the king could've done to stop the marriage from going through, to convince the council of an ulterior plan – I mean, he _was_ the freaking king, after all. That had to count for something when it comes to all the legal bullshit. But Eugene didn't blame Frederic, per say, or hold a grudge against him for what had happened behind the closed doors of the council.

Probably because Eugene is too busy holding _her_ half the time to hold a grudge, too.

Like right now, while she's busy _sucking his cock_.

I mean, seriously, Eugene is nothing more than a dead man walking. He is basically seeking out his own death at this point.

"I just— I know that you have grown quite close with Arianna and me. We've truly come to think of you as an important part of this family. My wife and I have enjoyed your presence here in the palace, and appreciate everything you've done for Rapunzel through this difficult past year. I don't want you to feel like we don't care about you anymore —"

 _"Rapunzel!"_ Eugene hisses, as quietly as he can, praying to the heavens that Frederic won't hear him, or notice the way his voice has gone strangled. He should be basking in the thoughtful, kind words of the king, words he'd always _wanted_ to hear from a fatherly figure. Frederic didn't show his vulnerable side often, especially with Eugene, and he should be eating them up right now. Instead, he's worrying about getting caught for getting a blowjob from his once so innocent, so sweet daughter.

He'd tainted her, Eugene realizes. He was the big, bad man that had stolen her virtue and tainted her innocence, so much so that she doesn't care aboutgetting down and dirty with her own father just outside the open bathroom door.

" _What are you doing? Are you nuts?"_

Eugene motions to the door, wondering if his always unpredictable, always _curious_ princess has absolutely lost her mind to give him a blowjob with her father standing maybe ten feet away. Was she just curious about what his reaction would be, does she get off on seeing him squirm? They're incredibly lucky that the shower curtain isn't sheer, and that the shower provides a significantly loud spray. Rapunzel doesn't respond, just looks up at him, bobbing her head with a smile.

_God, she's good at that. How is she so good at that after doing it only one time?_

He knows he should push her away, at least until the king is gone – he knows that would be the smartest thing to do – but frankly, Eugene isn't very good at making the smart choices lately, and he knows that. So, instead, Eugene's hand finds the base of her skull, his own head falling back. He braces the other hand against the wall, desperate for support, trying his damn hardest to hold back a lust-filled groan, so her _father_ doesn't hear.

_Fuck. That feels amazing._

Even after nineteen years of incredibly limited sexual knowledge, the things the princess knows how to do with minimal practice is beyond him. It's like she's a sponge, soaking up every ounce of knowledge she possibly can, storing it away to torture him with later. Rapunzel was right; maybe everything really _does_ feel better when it's supposed to be wrong. As wrong as it is, all Eugene can focus on is the possibility of fucking her against the shower wall.

Once the king has left, of course.

"We do care, we just —"

"I-I understand, sir! Really, I do!"

"Anyway, Arianna and I were talking, and we hoped that you'd stay here in the palace, even just for a while. You've been an excellent addition and valuable asset to the guard. But I understand if it's too hard for you, what with Rapunzel being marr —"

"Thank you, sir! I was actually planning on, s-staying, for a while, if that's alright with you. I've been really… enjoying the job!"

No _shit_ , he was going to stay, what with this little affair they have going now, what with her warm tongue dragging itself up and down his dick.

Affair aside, Eugene knows he would've stuck around anyway, if only to pass Rapunzel in the hall, or catch glimpses of her from afar every now and again. He would stick close by, so he would always know that she's alright. He would've stayed, even if he'd never get to touch her or tell her that he loves her ever again. He would've stayed, affair or not, to ensure that she'd be okay, even if that makes him incredibly selfish.

"Good. Good. I'm glad to hear that. Well, enjoy the rest of your night, son."

Oh, he'd enjoy it, alright.

"You too, sir! Thanks for... s-stopping by!"

When Eugene finally hears the bedroom door shut, and knows for sure that King Frederic is gone, he lets go of a massive breath he hadn't realized he was holding, before directing his full attention back to the situation happening before him.

"Rapunzel?" He asks, weakly.

"Mhmm?" She responds halfheartedly, only because she has a bit of a mouthful.

"I think I'm gonna cum." 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello, my friends! I'd hoped to be able to get this chapter up sooner, but unfortunately its finals week at school, so I've been spending a lot of time elsewhere. Thankfully, my university has a SEVEN WEEK LONG Christmas break this year, so you know what that means… lots of new chapters coming your way soon. Because what else would I possibly do with all that free time, but write this story?
> 
> In other news, last night, I outlined where I want the entirety of 'Killing Me Slowly' to go, and I'm really excited for the upcoming twists and dark turns, and I hope you are too. Today's featured song is Mr. Brightside by The Killers. Yes, I'm a big fan of the classics. Enjoy the new chapter!
> 
> Also, please feel free to leave me a review if you'd like, and let me know what you thought about the monologue from our favorite prince to hate in the last chapter! I like getting into different character's heads in my writing, so the full dynamic of the relationships can be understood. So, do we want more of Prince Charles? Does he do backstory? Please let me know!

**Chapter 9: Operation 'Take** **Down Fitzherbert'**

Prince Charles of Maddoline has felt positively strange all week. In the wake of the morning he'd spent watching (okay, maybe a more appropriate term would be _spying on_ ), his wife's ex-boyfriend and contemplating his own role here in the royal palace, Charles feels a newfound jovialness for life in Corona. That morning, he'd decided that he would try his best to enjoy life here, to make the most of this arranged situation. He would prefer that Rapunzel return to his beloved Maddoline kingdom with him, but it doesn't appear as though that's going to happen – not right now, anyway.

That same morning, he'd concluded that enough was enough: coming second to Eugene Fitzherbert in his own marriage, simply will not do anymore. His wife will find a way to let go of the former thief, one way or another. Charles simply needs to figure out a feasible method of making that happen.

Speaking of his wife, whenever Charles sees the princess lately, whether it's passing her in the hallway between lessons, from across the dinner table, or before blowing out the candle at bedtime, he feels a tad… shaky, if not a little _sick_. He feels as though an army of butterflies have erupted in his stomach, ones he hadn't even realized were cocooned there all this time.

Charles has come to the realization that the princess is… pretty. Really pretty, the kind of pretty that leaves you speechless. Her presence, though she usually brushes him away politely, often leaves him wonderstruck, itching to talk with her, yearning for her attention. Maybe he just likes the chase, and wants to prove to himself that he's capable of catching a girl who's playing so hard to get. Regardless, Charles isn't exactly sure where these sudden, sappy feelings toward the princess have come from, or when they'd become rooted – but they're rooting themselves within him now – and _deep_.

This evening, sitting at the dinner table with the king and queen, Charles really _looks_ at Rapunzel for the first time, harder now than he ever has before — even harder than he had on their wedding day. She looks especially pretty today in a simple green dress, which compliments her similarly colored eyes, and the short, dark hair framing her face. On anyone else, the choppy hairstyle would honestly look a little silly, but something about it is just so... _fitting_ for her _._

He leans forward a little, wondering if he can count the freckles that cover the bridge of the princess's nose from across the table.

"Charles, dear, how was your day?"

He hadn't been paying any attention to the dinner table small talk between Rapunzel and her parents. Queen Arianna is looking at him with a soft expression, awaiting his answer patiently.

The king and queen are nice. They're always friendly, and they seem to like him, enough – enough to at least _tolerate_ his sudden presence in their home. Similarly to the princess, the older couple is still a little awkward around him, maybe. If not because they had already become attached to Fitzherbert, and because they still feel guilty about bursting the delusional little bubble their daughter had been living in with the former thief. But, just like with the princess, if Charles is patient enough, he reasons with himself, the king and queen will soon treat him like a son of their own, just as they had Eugene. With time, they will treat him even _more_ like a son than they had the notorious ex-thief, because Charles is the future co-ruler of their kingdom.

That _has_ to be worth more than being their daughter's temporary boyfriend. Right?

Then again, Eugene _is_ the only reason Rapunzel is even sitting here at the dinner table now. The man had returned to the king and queen the daughter they'd been yearning eighteen years to have back, had put his neck on the line for her, more than once. They obviously liked him enough to clear every one of the thief's outstanding citations against the kingdom. Charles has a long road ahead of him before they appreciate him as much as they surely are eternally grateful to Eugene for rescuing their princess, regardless of his questionable past. Charles knows that, but isn't off-put by the challenge.

The prince clears his throat, deciding against counting each of the princess's freckles. Maybe later, if he could find a way to strike up a conversation before bed, before she would surely roll over and ignore him for the majority of the next twenty-four hours.

"Oh, yes, my day was... my day was fine. Thank you for asking, ma'am." Charles half-heartedly returns the queen's gentle smile, side-eyeing Rapunzel, who's far too busy diving into a piece of chocolate cake to pay him much attention.

"How have you been enjoying your lessons?" The king asks in that big, booming voice of his.

Frederic was definitely less talkative and less inviting in nature, less _warm_ than his wife, but Charles takes it as a good sign that the king is making an effort to make conversation. For the majority of the last three months, the king has followed his daughter's cue, keeping the prince just at arm's length, never going out of his way to pursue any kind of real relationship beyond diplomatic conversation and public outings.

Charles considers his daily lessons. The many boring, painstakingly long lessons he's expected to partake in, lesson's with a purpose of teaching him about each intricate detail of Corona's government, because he would be Queen Consort someday. He'd attended his own lessons back in Maddoline for many years, but none quite so demanding and extensive. All of this time and energy will be worth it though, Charles supposes, if only because he is fourth in line to the Maddolineon crown. Unless all three of his older brothers were to simultaneously croak early on in life, he had no chance of being acting ruler of his own kingdom.

Queen Consort of Corona would have to be the next best thing.

"I've been learning a lot, Sir, thank you. I'm grateful for the opportunity to immerse myself in the inner workings of life as a citizen of Corona."

Okay, that was a little bit of a white lie. Charles mostly cares about his own citizens back in Maddoline, and had only agreed to marry Princess Rapunzel (not that his parents had given him much of a choice), because he'd been promised that the union would benefit his kingdom greatly. This promise had made the decision practically brainless, because Charles genuinely wants the best for his kingdom. Being as _selfless_ as he is will always come with a hefty price.

Trade and diplomatic relations between Corona and Maddoline are currently at an all-time high, and the economies of both kingdoms have already vastly improved in the last several months since the prince had moved to Corona. But, Charles concludes, Corona _is_ his home now, so it would be in his best interest to show a little more care for its subjects. After all, they would be _his_ subjects someday, whenever Frederic and Arianna step down, or subsequently pass away, ultimately leaving him and their daughter in charge.

"Are you excited to experience your first Christmas season here in Corona?" The queen asks, an obvious light in her eyes at the thought of Christmastime.

Charles considers the approaching holiday season. After all, it is December now, and in Corona, it's tradition for the entirety of the kingdom to participate in a four-week-long festival, which would celebrate the upcoming holidays. This festival would come to an end with the big Christmas Eve ball, in which Charles and Rapunzel would make their debut into the royal social circle as a married couple. The four-week festival will provide the prince and princess plenty of opportunities to show their faces in the kingdom, connecting with the local villagers, lending a helping hand to those who need it.

"So, I assume that means you'll be accompanying Rapunzel to the village orphanage tomorrow, to donate toys for the local children and meet with some of them. This event always kicks off the festival, and a lot of generous people contribute to make it happen." King Frederic, Charles has noticed, shells out orders far more than he asks questions.

"I'd be happy to escort her, Sir."

"Good. Oh, and by the way…" The king continues with a strange expression, as though he were trying his very best to hold back a belly laugh. "I've appointed Eugene Fitzherbert as the head security detail for the event."

"You… _what_?" Charles asks, his eyebrows furrowing together at the mention of the former thief's name.

"What?" Rapunzel exclaims simultaneously, looking up suddenly from her cake, immediately interested in the conversation.

The king shoots Charles a hard look, assumedly not appreciating the tone the young prince had taken with him.

"Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, Sir, of course not. What I _meant_ to say was… that's great." Charles smiles nervously, backpedaling. He prays silently that King Frederic won't banish him from the palace before he can at least get the princess, his _wife_ , to so much as like him, even a little.

Looking over to the princess, he notes the way that all color has drained from Rapunzel's face as she returns her attention to the chocolate cake on her plate. The young princess stabs at the cake with her fork, her eyebrows pushed together tightly, as though she were suddenly very angry.

Honestly, an entire afternoon spent with the princess, in its own right, doesn't sound so bad, even if they have to visit a place as utterly depressing as an orphanage. Charles _has_ been wanting an excuse to spend time with her this entire week, to get to know her better, but she usually brushes him off, making excuses that she has somewhere to be. A day spent in the village would've been the perfect opportunity to win some points with her, to show her what an upstanding royal figurehead Charles really is – to prove to her that he is the right choice to someday be her partner in ruling this kingdom.

Now, an entire afternoon spent with the princess, watching her make doe eyes at Eugene Fitzherbert, sounds like absolute hell.

* * *

The next morning, bright and early, the three of them have been stuffed like sardines into a suffocatingly small carriage, inching painfully through the village to the orphanage building.

Eugene is quite sure he's never hated his life more than he does in this moment. And he's spent a significant amount of time in jail, been stabbed, and _died_.

"It's a beautiful day today, huh?" Rapunzel leans forward to peek out of the carriage window, a wide smile on her face as she waves brightly to a few villagers as they trot by.

"Yeah. Just beautiful, alright." Eugene mutters under his breath, side eyeing Charles as the prince stares longingly at her.

_Why is he looking at her like that? He's looking at her like he wants to –_

"Not as beautiful as you, Princess."

Eugene watches from his side of the carriage as Rapunzel blushes furiously, sheepishly returning the prince's smile. Jealousy burns through Eugene's veins, and he wonders why in the _hell_ the king asked him to be here today. Frederic must find his entertainment in torturing the former thief, Eugene concludes.

Charles isn't _wrong_ – she _does_ look beautiful today, with the little purple flowers that have been braided into her short hair, donning a pretty, champagne-colored dress that compliments her skin tone rather nicely. She's wearing her crown today, because this is an important public event, and a million memories come flooding back, plaguing Eugene with an immense nostalgia.

"Suck up." Eugene coughs under his breath, receiving a pointed look from the princess.

Charles glares at him, leaning back in his seat, placing his arm on the headrest behind Rapunzel's head arrogantly.

Two jealous men in one small carriage, can't end well.

"I'm _sorry_ , Mr. Fitzherbert." Charles speaks with mock guilt dripping from his lips, a hand to his heart. "I didn't realize that complimenting my _wife_ would offend you."

"It didn't offend me." Eugene inspects his nails nonchalantly, before looking back to Charles with an easy shrug. "I just think you're a suck up."

The carriage comes to a sudden halt, and the trio peeks their heads out the window, realizing they've reached their destination.

"Oh, look. We've made it to the orphanage." Charles looks pointedly at Eugene. "This must be _so_ nostalgic for you."

Charles knows he should be trying a little harder to make a good impression on the princess, as he'd promised himself he would slowly build their relationship from here on out, that he would get her to _trust_ him. He knows that acting like a top tier douchebag isn't going to get him very far with her.

But something about Eugene always being around causes an immense anger to bubble up inside of Charles, because he just wishes the guy could leave them _alone_. Charles can't help himself as the crude comment slips unwarranted from his mouth, knowing it's surely not going to win him any brownie points with the princess.

Eugene exits the carriage first, stepping down to offer Rapunzel a steady hand, which she gladly takes, following him from the carriage and into the cobblestone street. Charles follows, a deep-set scowl on his face. The two men face each other, jealousy ringing in each of their ears, the testosterone running rampantly between them. Rapunzel can't help feeling a bit sick to her stomach, recalling the heated night of the engagement ball, praying that Eugene won't throw a hard, perfectly-aimed punch at the prince like he already had once before.

She wouldn't really _mind_ if Eugene were to punch Charles for his rude comment behind closed doors. If anything, it would be warranted, and in all honesty, he was kind of _hot_ when he was jealous over her. Just not in public, with so many eyes to see, to judge –

"Making orphan jabs again, huh, Charles? _Real_ classy. You know, your face is just as punchable now as it was before, and I'm not afraid to put you on your ass again –"

Eugene clenches his fists, leaning forward, his teeth gritted. Much to Charles's dismay, Rapunzel places a small hand to the former thief's uniformed chest, backing him away gently. The gesture clearly comforts Eugene, and he ungrits his teeth, but not without first rolling his eyes. The princess looks up at him pleadingly.

"Eugene, please, now's not the time –"

"Yeah, _Eugene_." Charles folds his arms over his chest, smirking a little.

"If I come over there, you're gonna regret it!"

"Bring it on, buddy! You're looking at Maddoline's royal arm wrestling competition reigning champion, four years running!"

"Oh, I'm _trembling_ in my boots." Eugene backs away in a mock gesture of terror. "What will I ever do to one-up a man who wins _arm wrestling competitions_ against a bunch of foppy noblemen? Do you see my face?" Eugene points to himself dramatically. "Color me unimpressed!"

" _Stop it_ , both of you! Have you forgotten why we're here?" Both Charles and Eugene look to the princess as she shoots each of them a hard look. Sheepish looks cross their own faces, her eyes darting between them furiously. "You should be ashamed of ourselves. This isn't about us." She sighs, pushing her short hair back, squaring her slim shoulders. "I know that none of us _like_ this situation, but do you think we can peacefully co-exist for just _one_ day? Can we just slap on some fake smiles and get through this, for them? Please?"

Rapunzel motions to the group of overly-excited children standing outside the orphanage, all of whom are over the moon to be meeting the _princess_ today.

"For you, Blondie, I will." Eugene glowers at Charles, letting his hand rest on the sword hanging at his hip. "Only for you."

Charles wordlessly shakes his head, stalking off toward the orphanage, but Rapunzel holds back for a moment, grabbing Eugene's arm gently.

"Hey." She speaks softly, her eyes trained closely on Eugene as he gazes at the rundown building. She wishes she could caress his face, provide some momentary comfort. "I know this is probably a hard day for you. I'm sorry that my father asked you to be here. But _I'm_ here, if you need to talk about –"

"Look, Blondie, I'm fine." He's completely on edge, and she can see right through him. "I'm just here to do my job. Can we not make this anymore awkward than it already is?"

"Right. Okay. You don't want to talk about the whole orphanage thing. Noted." She lowers her voice, looking around quickly to ensure that no one is within earshot. "But… if you behave yourself around Charles today, I'll give you a reward, okay?"

"Ooh, a reward." Eugene leans a little closer, trying not to be obvious, as they are still in public, with a lot of prying eyes around. Although, when he's with her, it feels as though the world consists of just the two of them, and its incredibly hard not to get caught up in that feeling. "What did you have in mind?" Eugene wiggles his eyebrows, grinning suggestively.

"Oh, come on, Eugene. Get your head out of the gutter. There's children around." She teases with a laugh, before turning to skip to the building's entrance, where the orphanage children are standing in pure anticipation of the princess's arrival; the princess who had been saved from her tower by a certain _heroic_ man who used to live at this very orphanage, the princess who is kind, and sweet, and loves her kingdom fiercely.

Eugene follows easily behind her, because he's quite literally being paid to protect her today – but mostly because Eugene would've followed the princess anywhere for free, even into the damp, depressing place he'd spent some of his most formative years – a place he's spent a lot of time trying to avoid since returning to Corona.

He studies the building closely as he approaches, noting the gutters filled with fallen leaves, the crumbling brick foundation, the worn, wooden front steps. He'd once sat on these very steps, counting the horses and carriages as they trotted by, wondering what it would be like to escape the raincloud that drenched his little orphan head. Eugene wonders if the roof still leaks from the third floor, where his childhood bed had once been, shoved away in the attic. Eugene wonders if the old, leaning bookcase is still there, housing the entire Flynnigan Rider series, which he'd read and reread to the younger children every night before bedtime. He'd spent so much time here, imaging himself as the swashbuckling rogue, imagining what it would be like to travel the world with no one to answer to, to become rich beyond his wildest dreams.

He'd spent so much time here thinking he would never amount to anything at all, thinking money would be the only thing that could give him a happy life – when really, he'd recently learned, only love can do that.

Now, he's a _palace guard_ of all things, in love with the _lost_ _princess_ he'd heard the whispers about when he was so young, living in this very building. He'd been only about six years old the summer she'd gone missing, but he remembers wondering if the kingdom would ever see her again. Of course, she'd been worth waiting for.

Nearly twenty years later, he's now trying his damn hardest to keep that very same, once lost princess from slipping through his fingers completely, and into the hands of another man.

Even Flynnigan Rider couldn't have dreamed up a storyline quite _this_ fucked up.

* * *

Prince Charles is still getting used to sharing a bed with the same woman every night, especially a woman who frequently talks in her sleep.

The princess moans and hums under her breath, her eyes still shut tight in the midst of her slumber, and Charles lies completely still, listening closely. It had been a long day of meeting the many rambunctious orphanage children, keeping an eye on the spirited princess, and keeping an even closer eye on Eugene Fitzherbert. Being kept up by her sleepy mumbles isn't doing any favors for his exhaustion. Rapunzel sighs a few incoherent words, before something slips out of her mouth that Charles does _not_ want to hear.

"Eu... Eugene... "

_Oh_ _ **hell**_ _no._ _Was she —?_

"Eugene!"

Charles looks over to her small form in the darkened room, noticing that she's _shaking_ , her sleepy tone turned pleading. She's shaking hard, thrashing now, her face twisted, as though she were terrified out of her mind.

"No, please! Please, just let me heal him!"

_Heal him?_

Charles quickly scrambles over to Rapunzel's side of the massive bed, closing the many feet between them. Intrigued, and a bit irked at the sound of another man's name _being called in his bed,_ he leans over her petite, shivering body as she squirms about.

"Let me — let me heal him! Please…"

He'd heard the whispers, the rumors, about what had really happened in that tower of hers. That Eugene had escaped the noose to save her from her lifelong captor, that he'd chopped her long, magical hair from her head, explaining why it was so short now – but no intricate details have ever been confirmed. The royal family remains quite _hush hush_ about their daughter's entire ordeal, even with him, and Charles understands why. He hasn't wanted to broach the subject with her, lest it cause Rapunzel to push him away, even more than she already has.

"Rapunzel, darling, wake up. Rapunzel, you're having a bad dream!" The prince hisses quietly, trying to shake the princess awake. She doesn't budge, caught in the claws of the dreamscape playing out inside of her head. Charles sighs, feeling a little impatient, wanting to know what's frightened the girl so deeply. " _Rapunzel_." He repeats her name again, louder this time, shaking her shoulder with greater force.

The young princess snaps awake suddenly, rising quickly from her lying position.

"Huh — wha…" She rubs her eyes, her brain working to process where she is and who she's talking to, also still not accustomed to sharing a bed with someone – well, someone other than Eugene, when she often used to sneak into his room late at night. "What happened?"

"What were you dreaming about?" Charles immediately demands, watching her closely in her half-asleep confusion.

"I don't... I don't know." She stares into space for a long moment, her voice groggy.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I…" The princess yawns, falling back into the pillows, realizing she hasn't been awakened for an emergency. "I don't remember. I'm sorry if I woke you."

Charles leans forward, tentative.

"You were calling for..." He doesn't even want to say it. _Why does he say it? WHY does he bring it up, in his own bed?_ "For _Eugene_."

The princess awakens at that, a bit more alert at the sound of her former flame's name.

Why is Charles not surprised by that? He'd been, thanks to the king, forced to spend the day with Eugene, watching the thief-turned-guard look _his wife_ up and down all morning. And now, Charles has to listen to the princess moan his name at night, too? Some marriage he's got going here.

"Oh. I – I'm sorry." The princess shrinks back, looking embarrassed. "I was just —"

"What was your dream about?" The prince repeats the burning question. He really does hate to pry, but he wants to know — even if he won't like the answer.

The princess nervously hugs her knees to her chest under the sheets, shrugging a bit. She looks like a scared little girl lying there in the moonlight as it illuminates her soft face — much younger than nineteen. Her lip trembles and Charles wonders if she'll cry; then, he wonders what he would even do if she _does_ cry. Would she even let him console her? The possibility is doubtful.

"I... I was dreaming about the last day that I spent in my tower."

So, his assumption had been correct. She _had_ been dreaming about her past life – the life she'd lived before arriving at the palace, before she'd realized she was the Lost Princess of Corona.

"You seemed like you were really scared."

"I was..." She fingers the material of the sheet, unable to look at the curious prince. "It was a horrible day."

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

"No… no, not really."

Not with him, she means. But if he were Eugene, she probably would.

"Look... I know you didn't really... _expect_ to be with me. And I'm sorry about my behavior earlier today. But we're here now and... _I'm_ here, Princess. If you ever need to talk."

_That sounds good, supportive. Right?_

"Thank you." She smiles a little, nodding.

"Do you think you'll be okay now?"

"I think so." She sighs, pushing her hair back from her face. "I am sorry, if I woke you. Sometimes I just... sometimes I have these bad dreams. Eugene, he... he was stabbed that last day in my tower, and I guess... well, sometimes I just have nightmares." She shrugs sheepishly. "Maybe I should've warned you."

_Yes, she's letting him in! Finally!_

At least she hadn't been moaning the ex-thief's name in an erotic dream, as Charles had originally assumed.

"No, I understand." He rushes to reassure her. "You went through a horrific thing."

She doesn't say anything for a long moment, just blinks at him there in the dark, as if she's deeply puzzled about why he's suddenly being so kind to her.

Charles supposes she's never really seen this compassionate side of him before, not until today, but something about the princess lately is making him want to… _know_ her, to gain her trust, to understand each of her intricate details. He wants to know everything about her, like her favorite color, and what season she likes best, and what she'd choose for her last meal. He hadn't felt this compelling urge to understand her in the first three months of living here in Corona. Until now, Charles has simply viewed Rapunzel as a means to an end, an end that would benefit his kingdom, viewing the marriage as something he _had_ to do, to help his own people back in Maddoline – the marriage was simply something that was expected of him. A duty he needed to fulfill.

So, why does Charles suddenly feel this rushing _need_ to understand Rapunzel far better than he does right now, to know what it's like to be on the receiving end of her affections?

Maybe it's because he's getting sick and tired of knowing her affections lie elsewhere, sick of knowing that she'll never even _try_ to explore the possibilities of their relationship, as though he's not worth exploring. Maybe it's because he's truly looking at her for the first time, here in the darkened bedroom, when everything is much more vulnerable and quiet than usual. Typically, they only spend time together at public events, when they're expected to pretend to be the cheerful, newly-married couple, or at the dinner table with her parents, where she usually doesn't make much of an effort to converse with him.

But here, with the moonlight streaming from the big windows of their bedroom onto her pretty face, he _sees_ Rapunzel for the first time, for all that she is: a kind, gentle girl – a _scared_ girl, who has always had the trajectory of her life decided for her. He's concluded that the princess is a force to be reckoned with when angry, but he likes this vulnerable side of her best; the side of her that whispers _, maybe. Maybe I'll let you in._

Charles feels a strange twinge of guilt for the way he's acted since arriving here, a pang of… _empathy_ for the princess – an emotion he's not all that accustomed to. Any other girl he's ever courted in the past had never been as mysterious, as complicated, as _intriguing_ as her and her past are. Charles has never let his conscience get the best of him before, but rather, had once _relished_ in knowing he was a heartbreaker, someone women sought after.

But this girl, this girl he actually _wants_ , doesn't want anything to do with him. Some of that is to blame for his own behavior, for pushing the princess's beloved ex-thief to the brink one too many times. Charles doesn't feel guilty for the way he's acted towards Eugene, because honestly, the guy deserves it, but he _does_ feel guilty for doing so in front of her, for making her life harder than it already is.

Obviously, as her tossing and turning had showcased, the girl has some deep-set trauma, which probably explains why she's so attached to Eugene, and why he just won't leave.

"Well, I'd... I'd like to try to go back to sleep, if that's okay."

Charles suddenly feels a little deflated, a little... _disappointed_. Sure, he'd spent the last three months with the princess, but their relationship has always remained formal, diplomatic even, never crossing the line into even _friendship_ territory. In order to have a successful marriage, wouldn't they, at the very least, need to become friends? A perfect way to get there would be to swap stories in the middle of the night, the most vulnerable time of day. He's married to the girl, for goodness sake, and Charles can't even reach the friendzone, can't even wrap a single _finger_ around it.

The prince nods absently, lost in his own thoughts. Is he starting to really... _like_ the princess? Does he have... _feelings_ for her? Charles notes that he's suddenly starting to feel a little fuzzy around the edges, his stomach aching a bit.

He hadn't anticipated this. He'd assumed their marriage would be more of a friendship built upon mutual respect than true love, just as his parents' marriage reflected. But now… now he's finding himself wanting to be the one she opens up to, the one to hold her in the middle of the night when she's awakened by a haunting nightmare, dragging her back into the past. He _wants_ to be the one to drag her back to reality, the one to console her.

Maybe even, dare he say it… be the one to _love_ her?

He's never been in love before. Sure, Charles has courted plenty of young, attractive noble women from the highest royal circle of Maddoline, but he'd never found _the one._ What with the arranged marriage, he'd accepted that he probably never _would_ find his soulmate. Soulmates are only a far-fetched myth for a royal, where arranged marriages are so common. The notion is nothing more than a folklore story that few actually get the chance to experience.

Charles had always believed that. But Rapunzel… could she really be _it_ for him after all? Could this arranged marriage be the great, fated relationship of his life?

Charles thinks maybe it could. He's ready, _more_ than ready to finally advance their relationship, to take this marriage to the next level. For heaven's sake, the marriage wasn't even _consummated_ yet, meaning it may as well have never happened at all. He'd been so patient with her, not wanting to frighten her away.

Why couldn't she, at the very least, just let him all the way in?

Well, that's a bit of a rhetorical question. Charles knows _why_. It hadn't been hard to figure out. He'd seen it, the moment he'd met her, that the princess of Corona would be hard to grasp, difficult to get ahold of, because _someone else_ had already been holding her upon his arrival. Her apprehension for being with him has everything to do with a certain man with dark hair, a perfectly trimmed goatee, and an unbelievably checkered past.

As long as Eugene is around, Charles concludes, she's never going to be able to fall for him back, and Charles will live his entire life competing for his own wife's attention.

That's not the kind of life he's willing to sit back and watch, remaining a pawn in his own game. Charles _could_ be the poor sap who takes the cards he's dealt at face value, or he could take control of his own fate. He'd always known an arranged marriage would be inevitable, being the member of a predominant royal family, but he'd hoped that his future wife would, at the very least, respect him, and make _some_ sort of effort to grow their relationship – but that's not what Rapunzel has done.

Charles wants to be the sole receiver of his wife's affection, the only one she sees in a crowded room. He wants her to try, with _him_. He _deserves_ love, Charles reasons, just as much as anyone else. And suddenly, as if butterflies have erupted in his stomach, the prince yearns for that love to come exclusively from the gorgeous princess lying in bed beside him.

Despite wanting more information about her nightmare, about her past – about the dynamic of her relationship with Eugene, both in the past and the present – Charles knows that he shouldn't push the shaken up princess. This is the most he's gotten out of her in three months, and what with her still-trembling body, it's all clearly a touchy subject.

He's just going to have to take baby steps with her. It will require small, baby steps if he wants her to open up to him. After all, Charles had all but bombarded into this young woman's life, tipping it upside down, ripping away any _choice_ she's ever had – and it appears that making her own choices is not a luxury that Rapunzel has been granted very often in her nineteen years. She'll only push him away if he forces too much out of her too soon.

Of course, Charles's choice of a wife had been ripped away too, and no one would see _him_ complaining about it.

Charles decides, if he even wants a _chance_ at Rapunzel developing feelings for him in return, he'll actually need to work on being _likable_ – which will probably start with not being a blatant asshole any time Eugene is around. At least, not when _she's_ around. No matter _how_ hard it may be, he'll need to bite his tongue, at least when she's within earshot. Winning the princess's affections would never be achievable if Charles's dislike for the former thief continues to remain as obvious as he'd made it. If he can't help himself from making jabs at Eugene, he would have to do it only when Rapunzel won't overhear. Insulting the man she'd fallen in love with is only going to piss her off, and despite how sweet she is by nature, Charles had quickly learned that a pissed of Rapunzel is not something to be taken lightly.

"Of course. Good night, Princess." Charles moves back to his side of the bed, which feels like a mile away, wishing she would allow him to sleep closer to her. "And sleep well."

"Good night, Charles."

But Charles doesn't have a very good night, not after that. He lays there for a long time, tossing and turning. He wonders what he needs to do to get Rapunzel to feel even a fraction of the passion she clearly still feels for Eugene… for him.

_Maybe she just needs to hate Eugene more than she hates me for coming between them._

As Charles finally drifts off to sleep, he decides that tomorrow... Operation 'Take Down Fitzherbert' will commence.

* * *

About an hour passes before Rapunzel dares to move. Charles is snoring lightly, having finally fallen back into a deep slumber. She pulls back the covers, letting her bare feet drop to the cold floor, the nighttime chill of the palace covering her skin as she leaves the warmth of the blankets.

She walks somberly through the hauntingly quiet halls, allowing her feet to take her to the room she'd ventured to before so many times in the middle of the night. She hopes that she won't run into any of the palace guards on the night shift and be ushered back to her bedroom. When she arrives at her ultimate destination, Rapunzel knocks on the door. She knocks softly, hoping he'll hear, not wanting to wake any of the other guards, all of which have bedrooms located in the same long, dark corridor.

He had always been a light sleeper, what with constantly being on the run in his youth, so Rapunzel is surprised when the door doesn't open in a matter of seconds, as it usually does. After several moments with no response, she knocks again. The door swings back suddenly, causing the tired princess to jump back a bit in surprise.

Eugene rubs his eyes sleepily, holding onto the doorframe for support in his sleepy haze.

"Blondie?" He asks, squinting down at her as she stands there in the dull candlelight of the hallway. "Are you okay?"

She wrings her wrists together, looking up at him nervously.

"Can I sleep here, with you, just for a few hours? I promise I'll leave before the sun comes up." She looks to him pleadingly, and he notes the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "Please?"

"Yeah, of course, Blondie. Is… is everything alright?" Still half-asleep, he ushers her inside, closing the door behind them. She gets into his bed, pulling the warm blankets over her, liking the way they smell just like him. She scoots over to make room for him to return to the mattress, and it dips in the dark as he gets into bed beside her, immediately wrapping her in his arms.

"I had a nightmare." She murmurs, once they've settled in together. Rapunzel revels in the heat of his body, mostly because she's tired of being so cold every night in the massive bed she must share with Charles. "It was a bad one. I dreamt that you were… that you died. And I couldn't save you."

It had been a while since she'd had a nightmare, at least that Eugene knew of. In the first six months of living in the palace, Rapunzel had spent many nights sneaking away to Eugene's room, to crawl in his bed just like this, to allow him to console her: to reassure her that yes, he was still breathing, and no, he wasn't going anywhere ever again. Just before Charles had arrived, the nightmares had been few and far between. She had finally been able to see the light at the end of the tunnel of her healing process. Eugene had been so relieved for it, hating to see her relive the trauma of her tower over and over again, night after night.

Unfortunately, Charles's sudden arrival three months ago, has seemed to rip any progress her and Eugene had made together to shreds.

"Oh… oh, sweetheart… I'm still right here. You can't get rid of me that easily." Eugene caresses her face, running a hand through her hair, glad that he's able to evoke a small giggle from her.

She's had plenty of similar, traumatic dreams before. Dreams that typically end in Gothel not allowing Rapunzel to heal him, Eugene ultimately passing away, and her being taken into the depths of the earth with Gothel, never to be seen again – never to fulfill her destiny as the kingdom of Corona's lost princess.

_That_ alternate ending is one that still makes Eugene shiver a little when he thinks about it.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Rapunzel recalls the same words Charles had asked her only an hour ago. The prince had been so curious, so _intrigued_ to know what she'd been dreaming about. It had made her a little uncomfortable, as if she were being placed under a microscope. She knows that Charles had probably meant well, but she'd felt awkward opening up to him about the things going on inside her head, even if she'd only opened up a little. In comparison, everything is just so _easy_ with Eugene. It always has been. He knows everything about her – her darkest thoughts, her hopes and dreams, how to drive her _crazy_ in bed – all things she could never imagine sharing with Charles.

When the same question comes from Eugene's mouth, Rapunzel feels cared for, comforted, rather than interrogated. Because he's familiar, and she knows that she can trust him with her deepest fears, no matter how dark, no matter how scary or silly they are.

"Maybe. I think so." She sighs heavily, because it had always been so easy to talk to him before. Now, she feels self-conscious about what she really wants to get off her chest, scared to bring up her conversation with Charles. She's worried that it might make Eugene angry, because he'd been so irritated with the prince earlier that day, with good reason. "I don't know."

"You can tell me anything, Blondie. I'm all ears." Eugene squeezes her a little tighter, wrapping the blankets around them as if they were in a cocoon together.

"I know…" She responds, slinging a leg over his hip to pull him closer, to breathe him in. "I just… I don't want to upset you. I feel so horrible about what happened today."

" _You_ couldn't upset me, I promise. I just wanna know what's going on in that pretty head of yours." He whispers, his goatee rubbing playfully against her soft cheek, and she wishes she could see his face in the dark. She can't help but smile a little, because he's always so sweet with her, so gentle, and she loves him for it.

"When I was dreaming… I woke up Charles. He heard me… he heard me talking in my sleep, heard me calling out for you." She breathes in, recalling Charles's furrowed eyebrows and slightly irate expression when he'd first shaken her awake. "I think it upset him."

"So what?" Eugene narrows his eyes on impulse, puzzled as to why it would matter if Charles _was_ upset by something she has little to no control over. "You don't owe that guy anything, Rapunzel. It's not your fault that you went through something so traumatic."

"I know that… I just feel like, I don't know… he was suddenly _trying_ , you know, to be nice? For the first time, he was really trying to understand me, but I couldn't let him in. I couldn't talk about it. I don't want to, not with him. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but… I just can't talk about this stuff with anyone but you. I mean, you were _there_ in my tower with me. No one else could ever understand, not even if they wanted to."

Eugene understands. He'd had his own fair share of flashbacks and traumatic dreams, dreams that forced him to relive the moment he'd climbed her tower, gotten an eyeful of her chained and gagged on the tower floor, screaming his name, before he'd ultimately _gotten stabbed in the gut._ He remembers looking up at her with heavy eyes, seeing her with that freshly cut, short brown hair, clutching him desperately to her body, knowing he'd done it. He'd used his dying breath, his last bit of strength, to _save_ her. He'd looked at her as the world slipped away, and told her that she was his new dream. _She still is._ Then, she'd saved him with those magical tears of hers, and now, here they are.

And he'd do it all over again, if he had to.

Really, in hindsight, she'd saved him – from an unfulfilled life that overflowed with immoral behavior, a lack of the love he'd craved since he was just a little boy, and too many one-night stands to count. He'd lied to himself for a long time, lied to himself that Flynn Rider was the person he was meant to be. In actuality, he was meant to be _Eugene_ , and Eugene was meant to be with Rapunzel. And now, they have to navigate moments like this one while she's married to someone else, moments that should remain between the two of them alone, as they once had.

"Rapunzel… I say this as kindly as I possibly can, with your delicate ears in mind… but Charles is a _total_ _douchebag_. Maybe he really is trying to get to know you, but I don't trust him. And neither should you."

"I didn't _say_ I trust him, Eugene." Rapunzel pulls back a little, offended by Eugene's insinuation, as if accusing her of giving herself to Charles.

"Good. Because guys like that want one thing from you, and one thing only."

_Sex,_ Rapunzel thinks. _He means that Charles was only being nice to me in response to my bad dream, because he wants sex from me._

A long silence ensues.

"We can change the subject, if that would make you feel better."

"Would it make you feel better?" Rapunzel asks, noting that Eugene is very obviously on edge now.

"Yeah. I think it would."

"Okay. How do you feel after going to the orphanage today?"

"Alright, that's not exactly the subject change that I was hoping for."

"I think you should talk about it."

"What if I don't want to? What if I just want to pretend it never happened?"

"If that's what you really want, then I'll drop it. But, if you want to talk about it, I want you to know that you can. You can tell me anything, too, you know."

Eugene sighs deeply, knowing she's right. Visiting the orphanage today _had_ been hard. Along with Charles's annoying presence, it had caused a lot of emotions to rush to the surface, emotions he'd spent a lot of time repressing since he'd ditched the orphan life for a life of crime at such a young age.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's not _you_ I'm mad at, Blondie. I guess, sometimes… sometimes it's just hard to think about the person I used to be. And the orphanage made me think about that person today. A lot."

Rapunzel props her elbow on the mattress, resting her head in her palm. She traces gentle, soothing circles across his chest with the other hand, listening.

"You don't have to be ashamed of your past, Eugene. We all have one. You did what you had to do to survive."

"Yeah, that's partly true. But I also did a lot of things that I shouldn't have, that I didn't _need_ to do. A lot of things that I regret. I've hurt a lot of people and betrayed a lot of people's trust. And when I think about the person I used to be, it's like a ghost is looking back at me, and I'm not sure how to make it stop haunting me."

"You're not that person anymore." Rapunzel reaches into the blackness, caressing his face as she whispers to him. "Just like I'm not the same naïve, scared girl that I was in my tower. She still haunts me sometimes, too, and I still dream about it every now and then. But I'm not the girl I was, and you're _definitely_ not the same man I met when he was calling himself Flynn Rider."

"Well, that's all thanks to you, Blondie."

She's quiet for a long moment.

"Hey, Eugene?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever think about… running away?"

"What?"

"Do you ever think about leaving? The palace?" She asks quietly, as though she's terrified of the answer.

He sighs deeply.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Blondie, the option has crossed my mind since you got married. I thought, if I'm around… you would never have a chance at happiness again."

"Oh, Eugene, that's not true! I could only be happy with _you_."

"And _that's_ why you should know that I don't plan on going anywhere. Someone needs to keep an eye on you around here." He reaches over to tickle Rapunzel's stomach, making her giggle quietly in the dark. "Besides, I like it here. I like my job, but I _especially_ like you." He leans down to kiss her on the nose. "And I made a promise to you, a long time ago, that I would never leave you again. And I intend to keep that promise. So, if anyone wants me gone, they're gonna have to kick me out."

She sighs herself.

"Well, sometimes _I_ think about it. Running away, I mean. With you. Some days… some days I hate it here, and as horrible as it sounds… some days I wish I'd never come back. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, I love Cass. But I _hate_ being married, and sometimes…" She shakes her head. "Sometimes I even hate being the princess. And if I wasn't the princess anymore… you and I could really be together again."

_Because being a princess almost feels like being back in my tower all over again._

"Hey… hey, Blondie, don't say that. I know things have been hard these last few months, but this is still where you belong. Right here, with your parents. You were _destined_ to be the princess of this kingdom. Me and you? We're like this," He grabs her hand in the dark, squeezing it tight to signify the strength of their relationship. "Don't you worry, we'll figure this out. I'll do whatever I have to do."

_Including stick around the palace like a schlump while you have a_ _**husband** _ _._

She squeezes his hand tightly back, yawning loudly.

"I love you, Eugene."

"I love you, too, Rapunzel. Now, what do you say we both get some sleep? Because today sort of kicked my ass, and I need my beauty rest, or I'm going to start getting wrinkles."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Chapter 10 for Tangled's 10-YEAR-ANNIVERSARY TODAY? Say no more…
> 
> I genuinely cannot put into words what this movie has meant to me since I was ten years old. Ten. I remember seeing it in theatres for the first time, crying my eyes out at Eugene dying on the big screen. And thus, my decade-long crush on Eugene Fitzherbert would ensue. In all honesty, I still cry every time he dies, even though I know what happens. Don't we all? Regardless, New Dream is the most beautiful couple Disney has ever thought up. They have a love that will always prevail, no matter what. Let's not forget that as this story starts to ramp up. Today, a new character will be introduced… one that I think you'll be… surprised to see. I have a newfound soft spot for this chapter, so I hope you like it!
> 
> Today's featured song is Misery Business by Paramore, because some serious misery business is about to start. Also, I'm going to share the designer that I pulled inspiration from for the gold and red dresses that I envisioned Rapunzel wearing, both in the mini flashback sequence and the present tense of this chapter, because their work is utterly beautiful. Her name is Teuta Matoshi, and I encourage you to look her up if you like visual references. I would personally give pretty much anything to wear one of her dresses, and I think their whimsicalness suits Rapunzel really well.
> 
> Okay. Sorry for the long introduction this time. Enjoy this slightly spicy chapter. Because why wouldn't the 10-year-anniversary chapter be at least a little spicy?

**Chapter 10: Did I Ever Tell You I've Got a Thing for Brunettes?**

One month has passed since Rapunzel's wedding day — one month of Eugene and Rapunzel sneaking around, sharing fleeting moments and losing plenty of sleep just to spend time together. Rapunzel has snuck to his room in the middle of the night at least a dozen times now, which typically ends in tangled limbs, and moans, and giggles, and the occasional heartfelt conversation.

Basically, when they _are_ able to see one another, the young couple have been having _a lot_ of sex, and Eugene isn't complaining about the princess's newfound interest in further building their physical bond. It had been a while since he'd gotten laid, after all – well over a year. He would've waited for Rapunzel as long as necessary, would've loved her just the same, even if she'd _never_ wanted to take that step with him. But she had, and he's going to enjoy it for as long as he possibly can; even if there _is_ a big, dark cloud named Charles raining over them, and their only protection from the storm is living in a bubble of delusion with one another. He'd enjoy it anyway, because it's with her, and Eugene can't keep himself from wanting Rapunzel as much as he does.

In the past month, the young lovers have been kept plenty busy in their own respective ways, what with the palace absolutely bustling, everyone working tirelessly in anticipation of the big Christmas Eve ball this evening. This constant busyness has kept Rapunzel and Eugene rather frustrated, longing for more time together, but they'd fallen into a steady rhythm of making due with what they had. Ideally, this frustration would find _some_ relief soon, what with the four-week Christmas festival coming to a close tonight.

The excited princess and her not-so-equally-excited best friend are standing in her bedroom, preparing themselves for the Christmas Eve banquet and ball, in which Rapunzel will be expected to reintroduce herself into royal society as a married woman. Just as Princess Rapunzel and Cassandra will be tonight, the palace is dressed to the nine's, decorated in its best Christmas attire. A massive pine tree that stretches to the ceiling is standing tall in the grand foyer, ready to greet the hundreds of guests that will surely arrive soon. Rapunzel had insisted that she help the maid staff decorate the tree, and she'd proudly hung each ornament in its proper place, resting each string of tinsel gently on the perfect branch.

The princess couldn't help but fall in love with Christmastime in the palace, if only because it was so cozy, and cheery, and bright – and for just one moment, she would be able to forget what a horrible year it has been. In her tower, there hadn't been much to celebrate, and the holidays hadn't been high on the priority list for Gothel. But now, with her parents and Cassandra, and Eugene, _sort of,_ there still was a lot to be thankful for, even if their world had been turned upside down in the last three months.

Now, Rapunzel is pulling herself into a heavy, beautifully detailed red dress, one that loosely resembles some of the ornaments she'd hung from the towering tree.

"I look like a deranged snowman." Cassandra motions to the cream dress resting upon her shoulders, not even trying to disguise her disgust for the many layers of tulle she's drowning in. "This is going to suuuu…"

The lady-in-waiting trails off after receiving a hard look from her dearest friend.

 _Gosh, she's had a pretty_ _ **bad**_ _year. Maybe,_ Cassandra thinks to herself, _I shouldn't dump on this one day Rapunzel has been so excited for lately. After all, the princess could use one joy-filled night, even if it_ _ **is**_ _only short-lived and a little on the ignorant side._

Cass would try, she decides. She would at least _try_ to enjoy this, if only for pretend, for her best friend's sake.

"I _mean_... I can't wait to waltz around with a bunch of stuck-up, stuffy nobles on Christmas Eve! There's literally _nothing_ I'd rather do!"

"Oh, come on, Cass. Lighten up!" The princess nudges the older girl's shoulder, though the gesture doesn't elicit a smile as she'd hoped. "You'll get to be with me, and we get to wear these big, pretty ball gowns," Rapunzel twirls a little, watching with delight as the bundle of red skirts sparkle in the chandelier light. "And we'll get to dance to Christmas music..." The young princess sighs dreamily, clutching her hands to her chest, recalling last year's Christmas Eve ball. "It's all so... _magical_."

"You of all people _would_ think so, Raps. Unfortunately for me, two of those three things you just said, I absolutely despise."

Rapunzel turns to Cassandra with a laugh, always dumbfounded by how the two girls could be so utterly different, yet love one another as deeply as sisters do.

"Well, if you're glad to be spending time with me, but hate doing all the rest, I can be happy with that."

"Come on." Cassandra can't help but chuckle a little herself. "Turn around so I can zip up your dress."

She does, and the two young women begin light-heartedly bickering back and forth about whether or not it's completely _necessary_ that Rapunzel wear shoes tonight, when the door suddenly swings open, a maid tentatively stepping into the room. She's holding Rapunzel's crown in her hands, an easy smile on her face.

"Oh. Hi!" Rapunzel greets the maid sweetly, stepping toward the woman with a welcoming smile of her own. "I guess this is for me, huh?"

The princess takes the crown from the maid's hands and places it on her head, oblivious to the way the maid is eyeing the headpiece closely. Cassandra notices, though, always on high alert, narrowing her eyes at the maid's sudden interruption. Maids are always taught to _knock_ whenever entering a closed room in the palace. New employee jitters, Cassandra supposes, but she can't help being rubbed the wrong way by the woman's intrusion. The princess turns back to the maid with a grin, sticking out her hand.

"I don't think we've met before. I'm Rapunzel."

The maid is gorgeous, with long, thick chestnut hair. She's slender, but taller than the petite princess. She has dark eyes, eyes that look like they've seen a lot of things and met a lot of people. Her eyes look worldly – they kind of remind Rapunzel of Eugene's eyes in that way. The unnamed maid is altogether beautiful, in an _'I'll steal your boyfriend without even trying,'_ kind of way.

"Oh, I know _exactly_ who you are, Your Highness." Rather than taking her outstretched hand, the woman decides to bow deeply to the princess, smiling pleasantly back. "Excuse me, for my rudeness. I asked the head maid if I could bring you this." She motions to the crown, a gleam in her eye. "I hope you don't mind me saying so, Princess, but I've wanted to meet you for... well, for a _really_ long time."

"Really?" Rapunzel is taken aback, flattered, still not used to being a figurehead or a person of high popularity – honestly, it had taken some adjusting to having anyone _but_ Gothel knowing she exists at all, let alone an entire kingdom.

Cassandra cuts in suddenly, before the maid has a chance to respond.

"You know, I haven't seen you around the palace before. Are you new or something?" Cassandra crosses her arms, studying the maid closely, looking the woman up and down with her naturally intimidating eyes. Rapunzel elbows her gently in the ribs, always playing angel's advocate on her best friend's shoulder.

"Be _nice_ , Cass." Rapunzel whispers through gritted teeth, before turning to grin at the woman again, hoping she doesn't feel too off-put by Cassandra's generally un-trusting attitude.

"It's alright, Your Highness." The woman brushes off Cassandra's comment, clearly unphased by its accusing tone. "I _am_ new to the palace, actually," The maid shoots the lady-in-waiting a pointed look, "But I hope to stick around… for a while. If I do my job right, that is."

"I'm sure you'll do _great_. And it was great to meet you!" Rapunzel says brightly, always sincere and inviting to everyone she's in contact with. "But I think we should probably get going, before we're late for dinner. My parents would _not_ be happy with me. What do you think, Cass?"

"Yeah… we should get going." Cassandra responds to Rapunzel, but doesn't take her eyes from the new woman in the room, noting that she hadn't subsequently stated her own name when Rapunzel had introduced herself – and hasn't taken her eyes from the crown now resting in its proper place on the princess's head.

The maid nods in understanding, swiftly exits the room after bowing to Rapunzel once more, closing the door quietly behind her. Cassandra turns to the still-smiling princess, folding her arms across her chest, unimpressed.

"She seems nice." Rapunzel comments, returning to her vanity to make sure her short hair isn't too out of place under her crown.

"Umm, that was kind of _weird_. Don't you think, Raps?"

"Not really. There's a lot of maids that work here. New people are hired all the time, especially around the holidays." Rapunzel shrugs in the mirror, adjusting the crown on her head one final time. She's obviously unphased, having thought she'd just made a new friend, but Cassandra isn't so easily trusting. " _Everyone_ could use some encouragement lately, Cass."

"Yeah…" Cassandra responds distractedly, looking back to the door. An uneasy feeling settles deep in her stomach, because the maid's eyes had been just a little _too_ attached to that crown. The lady-in-waiting concludes that it's going to be a long night.

* * *

Eugene whistles his way down the hallway, in a surprisingly good mood for the first time in three months – give or take a few recent, fleeting nights of happiness spent tangled up with Rapunzel in his bed.

It's late in the evening on Christmas Eve, and Eugene is just returning from a long afternoon spent in the village. He's finding it hard to wipe the goofy smile from his face, reveling in the weight of the ring box in his pocket.

He'd spent the entire month agonizing over whether or not he should even _get_ Rapunzel a Christmas gift this year, wondering if doing so would give their little affair away. But, he'd decided, life is short, and she deserves to be shown that he still loves her with all of his heart, and jewelry was a good way to do that. Right?

Eugene honestly isn't too sure. Mostly because he's only bought jewelry for a girl once before, and _that_ hadn't turned out very well.

This is _Rapunzel_ , though, and she deserves to know that she's desired and appreciated and treasured, because she's the greatest treasure this kingdom has ever seen – the greatest treasure Eugene's ever seen with his own two eyes – and he'd seen _a lot_ of priceless treasure in his thieving days. After the horrible second half of the year they'd had, the least Eugene could do is give her a little reminder that he would always be with her wherever she goes, even when he can't _really_ be with her.

Maybe it was a bad idea to buy her a gift, especially one that would be so obvious, but he couldn't help himself. Eugene reasons, she could always say she'd found it, or that it was a gift from Cass, if anyone were to question her about it; meaning, if _Charles_ were to question her about it.

Eugene makes a face as he strolls the palace halls, thinking about the arrogant prince and the way he'd slipped his arm around Rapunzel in the carriage ride a few weeks ago, when the month-long festival had just begun. The possessive gesture hadn't sat right with Eugene at all, and honestly, he was having trouble shoving down his jealousy lately – even more so than usual. Rapunzel would surely be expected to spend the entire evening with the prince, as they reintroduce themselves as a _married couple_ to Corona's most stuck-up and arrogant noblemen and women at the Christmas Eve ball tonight.

 _She probably looks_ _so pretty_ , Eugene recalls as he walks along, _just like she had last year on this very same night._

Rapunzel had been incredibly excited to spend her first Christmas with her parents, and things are so different now. The thought of Prince Charles touching her, even just to dance – well, the thought of _anyone_ but him touching her – churns Eugene's stomach. Selfishly, a _really_ selfish part, Eugene hopes she doesn't look _too_ pretty, lest the prince get any interesting ideas. Although, that's nearly impossible for her to do.

Asking Rapunzel not to be insanely pretty, was like asking the sun not to rise in the sky each morning. Could he really blame any of the high-ranked noblemen that would be attending the ball tonight, or even Charles for that matter, for surely looking her up and down every chance they get, for wanting to know what she feels like, wanting to know how to get her attention? Eugene himself had thought the same things when he'd first met her.

He'd used the power of the smolder on her the day they'd met, after all. It hadn't worked that day, of course, but that's beside the point. She hadn't fully understood what it meant then.

But, Eugene reassures himself, he knows that her heart belongs with him, and his with her, regardless of the prince that was now playing third wheel to their love story. Eugene isn't sure how long he and Rapunzel can go on like this, sneaking around and whatnot, but he knows he'll do so for as long as he has to, even until his hair has gone grey and he's retired from the guard. He supposes Charles wouldn't like that very much, if he really were to stay in the palace for that long, but Eugene only sees the opportunity to piss the prince off, as more reason to stick around.

Despite her busy schedule and the many responsibilities she can't avoid as the princess, Eugene hopes that he'll see Rapunzel at some point in the next day or two, so he can give her the gift he'd spent hours painstakingly trying to find this afternoon. Visiting several different jewelry shops, Eugene had searched high and low for the right piece. He'd wanted the gift to be perfect, something that would really _suit_ her. When he'd found just the thing, Eugene paid for it with his own money (which can't be said for the one other piece of jewelry he'd given to a woman before), and had been proud of his purchase, excited to see what her reaction would be.

Enveloped in the thought of his princess, Eugene doesn't initially realize that he's walking past the main banquet hall doors on the way back to his bedroom. He's caught off guard by the loud voices and laughter, remembering that there's always a formal Christmas Eve _dinner_ before the actual ball itself.

Last year, he and Rapunzel had gotten into a little competition of who could eat the most cranberry sauce, and she'd won by a landslide. He'd had to wipe the dark juice from her lips, but she'd been so proud of herself for beating him. She'd just beamed right up at him, brighter than every chandelier that had been lit in the banquet hall, always making him feel as though he were the only other person in the room there with her.

He hadn't beaten her in their little cranberry sauce escapade, but he'd easily beaten her on the scale of how many alcoholic drinks he'd had that night. He'd definitely been buzzed, enough to forget some of the more nuanced details of that night, leaving him a little warm and fuzzy around the edges.

Despite the slightly blurred memory from the alcohol, Eugene can still easily recall every time she'd squeezed his hand under the dinner table, and all the times they'd danced together at the ball _after_ dinner, which had been most of the night. The experience had been reminiscent of the evening they'd spent dancing in the square, the first time he'd brought her to the kingdom, before they'd watched the lanterns rise in the sky in the harbor. Except this time, Eugene hadn't been afraid to dance with her, hadn't been afraid of what falling for her might mean for _him_ – that Christmas Eve night, he was just damn thankful he had – thankful that he'd traded a crown for something _much_ better.

Honestly, Eugene doesn't remember most of that night. At least, none of the things that don't concern his utterly beautiful princess. Not the faces of all the people he'd talked to, and definitely not any of their uptight, royally stuffy names. But he _does_ remember the stunning gold dress she'd worn that night, and the make out session they'd had in the courtyard well after two in the morning, when the ball was still in full swing back inside the palace.

Eugene had dragged his princess to the courtyard, complaining that the ballroom had grown too hot, what with the hundreds of guests still crowded inside. In all honesty, the tight-lipped royal events weren't really his style – he endured them for her sake, wanting to be supportive. When Eugene had pulled her outside, he'd really just wanted a moment away with her – away from prying eyes and the hushed whispers about his past.

Rapunzel had giggled as he'd dragged her through the winding courtyard garden, telling him that she loved him so much, that she would follow him anywhere. And he'd known then that he'd follow her anywhere, too. Eugene recalls her rosy cheeks, and how he'd leaned down to kiss each of them, warming her cold skin. She'd complained that the icy, winter night was nipping at her too harshly, what with her bare arms and only her fancy ball gown to protect her from the late night air.

So, he'd nipped at her neck with his lips instead, promising that he'd always be there to keep her warm.

Eugene recalls the way she'd drug him from the courtyard and to his bedroom that Christmas Eve night. Because everyone, even her parents, had been too busy having fun at the ball to notice their disappearance. He thinks about the way she'd kissed him well into the early morning. They had only been living in the palace for about three months at that point, and he recalls that night as the first time he'd fingered her – and subsequently given the once-so-innocent princess her first orgasm.

She'd just started questioning him about sex a few weeks prior to last year's Christmas Eve ball, when she'd discovered those books about reproduction and intercourse in the library. They'd only then begun exploring one another's bodies more frequently. Eugene had honestly considered letting her parents broach the subject with her, but he didn't want her to feel embarrassed, and he knew that he was the person she trusted most. Eugene hadn't wanted to betray that trust by telling Rapunzel's parents about her deepest, darkest questions and thoughts.

Selfishly, _he'd_ wanted to be the one to educate her on all things sex life. He'd wanted to be the one to guide her through it, so everyone around her wouldn't fill her head with _fear_ about sex, making her feel like it wasn't a totally natural, normal thing to experience as a young woman. She'd spent her entire _life_ having her head filled with lies, told she should be afraid of things she needn't be afraid of, and Eugene wouldn't let _that_ continue.

From what he could tell, royals were not exactly encouraged to fool around before marriage, but that hadn't stopped Rapunzel's always-curious spirit.

Still, Eugene had wanted to be as gentle as possible, to take things painfully slow with Rapunzel, not wanting to scare her. He'd wanted to give her every opportunity to adjust to the new world around her, and all of the overwhelming emotions that come with it. He'd wanted everything that happened between them to be _her_ choice, because nearly all of her own choices had been stripped from her for most of her life.

Eugene remembers the way they'd gotten so caught up in one another that night in his room, as the royal guests continued to party into the night without them – _so_ caught up, in fact, that his hand had found its way between her thighs, a step they hadn't taken up until then. Until that night, the furthest they'd gone was French kissing, and occasionally feeling one another up _outside_ of their clothes.

In the midst of her desire, and still on a high from the hazy excitement of her first Christmas Eve ball, Rapunzel had bunched her golden skirts around her waist, tugging at his hair with her free hand. He remembers asking her if she was okay, and she'd nodded feverishly, begging him to keep going. She'd moaned his name relentlessly, riding out her orgasm, clutching his wrist between her legs. He remembers her flushed cheeks, her hair a tousled mess, shamelessly enjoying one of the _best_ feelings life has to offer for the first time. He remembers the huge grin she'd had after she'd finished – he'd never forget the look on her face, and how good he'd felt about knowing he'd made _her_ feel so good. They'd fallen asleep together in his bed, in their fancy ball clothes, and she'd rushed back to her own bedroom as the sun came up, kissing Eugene passionately goodbye.

That had been a _good_ _freaking_ _night_.

Eugene suddenly feels a little warm and fuzzy as he tromps past the banquet hall in present time, knowing he'd do anything to spend the entire night kissing her now.

He considers, with a bit of a huff, _a_ _ **lot**_ _can change in just one year._ Now she's inside the same banquet hall they'd enjoyed Christmas Eve dinner in together last year, with another man – with her _husband_.

Lost in a mix of nostalgia, jealousy, and longing for the way things used to be, Eugene jumps back when one of the massive dining hall doors swings open, revealing a beautiful girl in a red dress. She steps into the hallway, her back still turned to him as the door slams shut, encasing the sound of the noisy guests inside.

Eugene notices that the girl is wearing a familiar, gold crown on her head, and _isn't_ wearing any shoes under her heavy skirts. Hey, he knows that girl.

He'd just been thinking _insanely_ dirty thoughts about that girl.

"Oh! Hi, Eugene." She smiles brightly, realizing she's not alone in the hallway, both surprised and delighted to see him so unexpectedly.

" _Holy… shit_." Eugene breathes, frozen in his footsteps, because she looks like an angel walking on earth.

"Is something wrong?" Rapunzel presses her eyebrows together, hurriedly looking down to her skirts, twirling them this way and that. "Did I spill something on myself?"

Eugene tries his best to swallow a chuckle, and even harder to swallow the lust burning in the bottom half of his body at the sight of her looking like… like _this_.

" _No_. I mean, not at all. Everything's… _wow_."

She giggles a little, creeping toward where he's standing, just past the banquet hall doors.

"Are you… feeling okay, Eugene?"

He clears his throat, smiling at her, trying his best to cover his desire.

"Me? I'm great! How are you? How's dinner?"

"Oh, you know." She edges closer to him, her little bare feet padding on the marble floor. He wonders how her feet aren't perpetually cold, walking around barefoot like that. "Just trying my best to keep a smile on my face, I guess."

 _Because it's not the same without_ _ **you**_ _there,_ Rapunzel thinks, recalling last year's Christmas Eve ball for herself, remembering the special night they'd shared, the things he'd made her feel for the first time.

Eugene smiles softly in return, dragging her from a long walk down memory lane.

"That's my girl."

She's just a foot or so away from him now, and he realizes they've backed themselves into the shadows of the hallway, where there's a jut in the wall, concealing them from a direct line of vision at the banquet hall doors.

"How are _you_?" Rapunzel asks in kind, reaching out to finger his collar, gently tugging him toward her, wanting to be close to him.

"I'm…" Eugene breathes in her sweet scent, wanting nothing more than to plunge his fingers into her short hair and press her up against the wall.

If Eugene is being completely honest, he's all kinds of messed up – a ring in his pocket, wishing he could get down on one knee and freaking _marry_ this gorgeous young woman already, if not take her right here in the hallway.

He really needs to find that black market guy that knows how to make people disappear.

"Look, Rapunzel, I should really get back to my room…"

"Why? What's the rush? There's plenty of food to enjoy, if you're hungry –"

She motions to the closed dining hall doors, where he can hear the jovial laughs and clinking of champagne glasses.

He's hungry, alright. Just not for food. Because Eugene can't stop himself from replaying last year's Christmas Eve night in his mind, over and over again, on an endless loop of hearing her moan his name and sigh in relief – knowing she's finally able to let _go_ of all that frustration that's been built in the last three months. Because _she's_ standing here, in this beautiful red dress, looking like an absolute sin he would die to commit.

Well, die _again_.

"There isn't any… _rush_ , I just –"

Oh no. His breathing is starting to hitch, and he's starting to feel a little dizzy, actually. Eugene knows they would be in deep trouble if someone were to step out of the dining hall and look around the corner, finding them standing so close, whispering to one another.

_Keep your head clear, Eugene. You can do this. If you can_ _**just** _ _get back to your room without —_

"Then what's the problem?" She peers up at him, a little bit of annoyance etched across her cute face, her hands on her hips. "You shouldn't be alone on Christmas Eve, Eugene. I know my parents would agree."

She's so sweet, and thoughtful, and she cares about him, and she doesn't want him to be alone for the holidays.

"Don't you worry about me, Princess. I've got Lance to cuddle up with beside the fire. Besides, the problem is..." Eugene lowers his voice, deep and sultry, slowly pressing his body against hers, his lips to her ear, because he just can't help himself. He's pushed her against the cold wall, making her shiver. Concealing them away into the dark shadows of the hallway, Eugene fingers the material of the deep red dress resting on her slim shoulders. "You don't even look _real_ right now… and I can't stop imagining myself fucking you."

He blurts what's really on his mind, immediately wondering if it was the right thing to do.

Rapunzel blinks in surprise, taken a bit aback by his blunt, hushed honesty. Eugene typically isn't so forward; at least, not with her parents and husband just on the other side of the banquet hall door, only a few feet down the hallway.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I didn't realize —"

"And with your _husband_ in the same room..." Eugene swallows, hard. "I don't think it would be a good idea. I mean, I just don't think I can handle —"

His voice is tight. His eyes have gone dark. His grip on her hair at the base of her skull has tightened, just slightly. Something registers in Rapunzel's mind, all the signs pointing to what she knows he wants, and she understands what he's trying to say.

"Eugene, you're..." What was that strange word Eugene had used before, to help describe the tingly feeling she'd felt when they'd first starting kissing passionately, and when they'd first done a little _more_ than kiss? She giggles a little, whispering as quietly as she can, just in case anyone were to walk by. "You're... _horny_ , aren't you?"

Eugene looks away, as if trying to swallow a smile at the naughty word falling so nonchalantly, so curiously from her lips.

"Maybe. A little." He actually looks a little embarrassed to admit his mind has wandered so far into the gutter.

Rapunzel wonders why. There isn't anything _wrong_ with how he's feeling, is there? She'd felt it often, too – just like he is now, like a fire lit deep inside your belly. Eugene had always told her to _never_ be ashamed of that tingly feeling she always feels when they kiss, to never listen to the stuck up tutors that told her she shouldn't do _anything_ with a man until she was married. Eugene had reasoned, _"They're just bitter because they can't get laid."_ And a dark part of him liked teaching her the 'wrong' thing to do – when safe for her, of course. Maybe it was the part of Flynn Rider that still lives inside of him, showing his face now and then.

The princess leans closer, almost tentative, kissing him deeply. Eugene hungrily kisses her back, as if he's been waiting _years_ just to touch her. He groans into her mouth a little, their lips melting together in perfect harmony. She pulls away far too soon, a bit breathless, knowing she can't be away from the dining hall for long before Charles comes out into the hallway looking for her. Eugene knows he should pull away too, so he doesn't send her back into the dining hall with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair knotted by his hands.

"Don't worry, Eugene. I was planning on visiting you later tonight..." She pokes at his chest playfully, holding onto his collar with her free hand. "Unless you'll be too busy cuddling by the fire with Lance?"

"Are you _kidding_? I was hoping you would." He smiles down at her, running his hands up and down her arms, sneaking a quick kiss on her nose. "In that dress, preferably."

"Noted." She laughs, scrunching her nose at the contact. "I should go, though. I said I was just going to the bathroom down the hall, and people will start to wonder."

"Okay, Princess." He says, not wanting to let her go, but knowing he has to. For now.

"I'll see you later tonight, then. I promise." She whispers, standing on the tips of her toes to peck his lips quickly, before turning to scamper back into the dining room. Eugene holds onto her hand for as long as he can before he has to let go, a goofy smile still lingering on his face, because he's just so darn in love with her.

"Just don't get caught sneaking around, okay?"

"I won't." She reassures him, disappearing again into the loud banquet hall.

* * *

When Eugene returns to his room, he immediately lights a fire in the fireplace. The small bedroom had gone quite damp in his absence, in the hours he'd spent out in the village shopping for Rapunzel's gift. He paces the room for a while, anticipating her arrival, wishing she didn't have to spend so much time with Charles tonight. It would probably be late when she finally gets here, Eugene considers, but that's okay. He doesn't really care, as long as he gets to see her – if only for a little while, before anyone realizes she's missing.

He's jumpy, overly excited to see his love, to caress her soft skin, to feel her yielding body move against his. The last few months have been hard, but the agony of knowing she has to be married to someone else always melts away when he's able to share fleeting moments with her, to touch her – to tell her how much he still loves her, despite their less-than-ideal circumstance.

Despite her being married now, Eugene remains so _consumed_ by Rapunzel – it's a little pathetic, really, as Lance had so elegantly pointed out to him, but he can't help it. Eugene couldn't fall out of love with her if he tried, couldn't even pretend to – even if doing so probably _would_ protect his heart a little better. In all honesty, he doesn't really care what happens to his wellbeing, as long as _she's_ happy. If staying is going to make her happy, then that's what Eugene is going to do, even if his heart winds up tattered and broken beyond foreseeable repair.

Pulling the small ring box from his bedside table, Eugene inspects the flower-shaped ring for a while, noting the intricate details of the tiny, pink pedals. Eugene recalls the guy who had sold the ring to him, a big, gruff man who'd had a piercing dangling from his nose – not that Eugene had been intimated. He's hoping Rapunzel will like the gift when he gives it to her later tonight, and wondering if he's a total idiot for buying a ring for a married woman. He reasons, she doesn't wear her wedding ring, even though she probably should, because she's only meant to wear a ring that's from him.

 _Because her heart still belongs with_ _ **me**_ _… right? She wouldn't have promised to come here later if that wasn't the case. Maybe it was stupid of me to buy her a gift, but this might be the_ _ **only**_ _way for me to ever buy a ring for her, even though I'd always hoped to buy her a different kind…_ Eugene thinks to himself, fighting his own conscience with his desire and love for her.

Caught up in his deep thoughts once more, something Eugene has been doing _a_ _lot_ of lately, he doesn't hear the initial knock at his bedroom door. When he finally does notice the persistent knocking, he scrambles to return the ring box to the bedside table, shoving the drawer shut. He hastily stands, striding to the door, swinging it open with an excited smile, bursting at the seams to spend some much-needed time with his gorgeous princess.

But the person standing there isn't the person Eugene had hoped for – not by a long shot.

"Hi, Flynn. Long time no see."

**AN: Did anyone notice the little tribute to 'The Return of Strongbow?' Also, WHO on** _**earth** _ **is at Eugene's door? And why are they calling him Flynn? Someone from his past, assumedly… any guesses? You'll have to wait to find out in Chapter 11.**

**Now, go do something fun to celebrate the 10-year-anniversary today! All my love, my fellow Tangled fans, and thank you for reading. I hope we're here together for many years to come.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello, and welcome to another rendition of 'Killing Me Slowly.' I'm very happy that you're here. Today, the identity of the mystery character who was at Eugene's door at the end of Chapter 10 will be revealed, as well as what this person's arrival means for the future of New Dream. Our favorite couple is going to have to decide if this sticky situation of theirs is truly worth fighting for.
> 
> I'm ready to dig deeper into Eugene's past and play around with this new character, so I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 11: The Girl Who Stole Christmas**

"Hi, Flynn. Long time no see."

"Eugene." This is all he can manage to choke out, because he's fallen into a state of oblivious shock, and it's far too late in the night to comprehend the person standing in front of him.

"What?" The familiar face squishes its eyebrows together, confused by his response.

"My name. It's Eugene." He repeats blankly, blinking rapidly, willing his eyes to stop staring at the woman at his door in surprise.

"Oh. _Oh_. Right, because you 'turned yourself around' for the princess or something. I heard the stories." She pushes her way past him rudely, slinking through the doorway. Eugene is sure to leave it wide open, lest she get any ideas if he were to grant her the privacy. " _Genius_! You know, Flynn... I actually feel a little guilty for not always giving you the credit you deserved, because this is smart as hell."

"Eugene."

She ignores his correction, carrying on. Dumbfounded by her presence, he sinks onto the bed slowly, and she immediately follows.

"Finding a way into the palace, working here, gaining the king and queen's trust before making out like a bandit! And you were going to keep me out in the cold and not let me in on this one, huh?" The woman snickers, eyeing Eugene closely with a look in her eye that makes his stomach churn, as if he might throw up. "Naughty, naughty."

"Stalyan, I... what are you _doing_ here?"

"I'm here for a _job_ , silly! Just like you!" She looks around, inspecting the small bedroom. "A little birdy told me that Lance is here, too. It's been a while since I've seen _that_ idiot."

Eugene pulls himself back, careful to keep a healthy distance between them. He knows he should defend his closest friend's intelligence, but he's too in shock of her unannounced arrival to care.

"I'm not here for a job. I'm here because I live here."

Eugene states this so matter-of-factly that she thinks he's joking, and she laughs in disbelief.

"Okay, seriously Flynn, you can cut the little act. I'm not going to tell the princess."

"It's _Eugene_."

She stares blankly at him for a moment.

"Whatever." Stalyan looks him up and down, her growing smile a little too prideful. "Speaking of the princess... I heard she got married, didn't she? That must've thrown a wrench in the pretty little fairytale you had going on here."

"Yeah. She did." _God, why does she have to bring_ _ **that**_ _up?_

"Ouch. That's rough. I guess no one really _does_ trust you around here. With good reason, I suppose. Can you imagine _you_ as Prince Consort of Corona? I mean, come on." She pauses, tilting her head slightly in consideration. "How much you wanna bet that she pops out a kid soon? You know how these royals are. They only care about having successors, so they can continue telling all of _us_ what to do."

Eugene feels his blood pressure skyrocket at the baby comment, a deep anger coursing through him at the mention of his worst nightmare: Rapunzel getting pregnant by a man that's not him.

_That's not possible, because she only lets_ _ **me**_ _fuck her._ That's what Eugene _wants_ to shoot back, but he successfully entraps the nuclear comment.

"You know, Stalyan, I really don't want to talk about this with you of all —"

"So, what's the big ticket item around here, then? Probably the crown, right? I know the lost princess isn't so lost anymore, but I'm sure the thing still has a high price value. I actually got to _hold_ _it_ in my hands today. I mean, I know you already tried to steal it once, but it's gotta be worth hundreds of thousands, if not mill —"

_This girl never knew when to stop, did she?_

"Alright, stop! I'm not here to steal anything!" Eugene glares at his former flame, his mind becoming blurred in his frustration with her sudden appearance, and her vagueness as to why she's here. "But I'm guessing _you_ are?"

Stalyan smiles knowingly, years of familiarity lingering between them. He'd always been able to see right through her, and vice versa.

"I might've been hired... by someone. To do… _something_."

If Eugene knows Stalyan well enough, and he does, she's definitely up to no good. This cryptic bullshit is just the card she would predictably play – she's done it with him plenty of times before. And if Stalyan is going to be around the palace for a while, as she claims, that 'no good' could very well negatively affect Rapunzel.

Eugene feels the panic rising in his chest, hundreds of memories from his past life rushing back, mistakes he'd made that he doesn't have the emotional energy to relive – the kind of mistakes that Rapunzel would probably hate him for, if she knew about them. Stalyan is _exactly_ the kind of person Eugene has always wanted to protect his princess from; people from his past that will seek to destroy her innocence, her light… her trust in him. Her trust in the fact that he was actually capable of changing.

Stalyan could very easily, and would _happily_ , send a wedge flying right through Eugene and the un-suspecting princess – and Charles had done a good enough job of _that_ already.

Speaking of Rapunzel, Eugene needs to get Stalyan out of his room, and pronto, because she'd promised to sneak away to see him after she was done with the royal Christmas Eve festivities. And if Eugene knows _Rapunzel_ well enough, and he does, he knows that she'll come through on her promise.

He'd been all hot and needy for her when he'd run into Rapunzel in the hallway earlier in the night, and she'd responded in kind. Those desperate feelings for release, for a night filled with moans and loving whispers, would surely deflate if Rapunzel were to arrive right now, and get an eyeful of the strange woman on his bed. In retrospect, the princess could appear at any moment. After all, she _is_ just as notorious for showing up unannounced as Stalyan. Suddenly, that's the _last_ thing Eugene wants.

The difference between Rapunzel showing up and Stalyan showing up, is that Eugene yearns to be with Rapunzel, while he yearns to be _away_ from Stalyan – far away. In the presence of his ex-girlfriend, Eugene isn't the least bit turned on anymore. The way he feels now, is such a stark difference from what he'd felt in Rapunzel's presence only a little while ago.

Despite their wild past, Eugene realizes that Stalyan just doesn't do it for him anymore. Honestly, Eugene doesn't find Stalyan even the slightest bit attractive. Not now, when he has Rapunzel to compare her to. Comparing the two women would be like comparing the warmth of the sunshine on your skin, after living in the frozen tundra for twenty-five years.

Deciding which is better, is a brainless conclusion. Stalyan is a traditionally beautiful girl – the sultry kind of beautiful that lures you in, only to destroy you completely, and without warning. She was notorious for entrapping men who were already taken, men who couldn't handle her dominant personality. Flynn Rider had handled it, well enough. But even _he'd_ been worn out by her demanding, over-bearing nature across nearly a decade of knowing her.

Rapunzel's beauty, on the other hand, is so far beyond any of that traditional, expected stuff, because it comes from within, shining bountifully from her exterior. She doesn't need to manipulate others into loving her – they just do. The love people have for her is a direct reflection of the unconditional love she has for them. The princess is unconventional in almost every way, wild and free, but not the type of wild and free that Stalyan is. Rapunzel lures you in, but in the kind of way that makes you want to change, to be _better_ – to be better _for_ her.

From Eugene's biased frame of reference, Rapunzel is the savior that freed him from himself, while Stalyan is the devil that had played into – no, which had _fed_ , his worst side – a side of himself that Eugene isn't so proud of anymore.

Eugene prays to the heavens that his princess won't arrive as promised until _after_ he's gotten Stalyan out of his room and far, _far_ away from both of them. He knows that if Rapunzel catches him with another woman, on his bed, even if he's completely repulsed by said woman's presence, he'll be in some seriously hot water.

Not to mention, Rapunzel and Stalyan would not be the type to braid one another's hair and swap stories about Eugene back and forth, though Rapunzel typically _does_ love doing those kinds of things. Knowing how protective (Stalyan more possessive than protective), both women have gotten over him in the past, Eugene knows that their meeting would probably facilitate the makings of an all-out war. This is something Eugene just doesn't have the energy to deal with – not after the mess of these last three months, and all those months have taken from him already.

He doesn't need Stalyan showing up here, unannounced, taking away the little sliver of Rapunzel that he still gets to enjoy far too infrequently.

Eugene's money is on the princess though, if he had to place a bet on the winner of _that_ fight. Despite Stalyan's many years of working with her father in the black market and participating in the most complicated of heists, and despite the princess's timid appearance, Rapunzel is one force to be reckoned with – especially when armed with her trusty frying pan. Eugene would know, as he'd been the first to experience her spunky streak and her good aim. Her love for him is so genuine, so _pure_ , that he knows she would go down swinging for him, if it were to ever come to that. The same way he'd gone down swinging with Charles only about a month earlier.

_Things are starting to get real complicated around here, aren't they?_

"Who hired you?" Eugene demands, surely not in the mood for any of the little mind games that Stalyan is so well known for playing. He wants to know why this unpleasant woman is here and what her ultimate plan is, so he can put a stop to it as soon as possible. She always has a plan, and usually, those plans end in someone getting hurt.

Assumedly, what with her jealous tendencies, her target of choice is the princess.

"Ah, ah, ah. That information, I cannot disclose."

"What are you up to, Stalyan? Tell me, now." Caught in his irritation, Eugene leans in, not meaning the gesture to be suggestive, but rather, threatening. "And if you don't tell me, I'll just figure it out for myself. I'm sure the king would love to hear about an intruder in his palace."

"Look, I'm not an intruder _, exactly_. All I can say, is that I'm going to be posing as a... as a _maid_ for a little while." She raises an eyebrow, smirking. "A maid for the _princess_."

" _You_? A maid?" Eugene can't help but scoff at the ridiculous notion.

Stalyan pulls back, jutting her bottom lip flirtily.

"Don't be mean." But, what with her insane bounce back rate from rejection, she's leaning back into him with a smile in only a moment. "I'm sure you have a sexy maid outfit fantasy shoved somewhere in that dirty little brain of yours. Remember, Rider, I know _exactly_ how you tick..."

Stalyan side eyes his crotch, and Eugene starts to feel a little disgusted that he'd ever been with her for as long as he had.

"I've never seen you clean a single thing in my entire life. You'll never pass for a maid. Someone will figure you out."

_Cass_. She could be Eugene's only hope. If Stalyan really is going to be a maid for Rapunzel, what with her brooding manner and continually suspicious attitude, the lady-in-waiting will surely put the pieces together –

"Well... you could've. Seen me clean, I mean." Stalyan slinks even closer to him, toying with his collar, and her eyes grow dark. "You could've seen a lot of things from me, if you hadn't _left me at the altar_."

He pushes her away, both of their faces quickly turned annoyed with the other, typical of their interactions.

"I never apologized for that, huh? Look, I'm sorry for ditching you, on our wedding day, after you spent _years_ walking all over me. You had to of seen _that_ one coming, if only from way off in the distance."

" _Please_. Save me the sob story, Rider." _That's just like Stalyan. Empathy isn't in her vocabulary._ "You loved it. You _enjoyed_ being told what to do. You chose to stick around for as long as you did." She smiles, a gleam in her eye. "Don't worry. I've forgiven you for your unthinkable betrayal. I'm willing to put the past in the past, if you are."

"I'm not." He responds to her suggestive comment, completely deadpan in the face.

"Oh, come on!" She reaches over to shake his shoulder a little, trying her best to jog his memory of their many exciting, past adventures. "Think about it! We were partners-in-crime, the best in the business! We were like Bonnie and Clyde, but sexier." She pauses to lean in, her voice sultry and low. "We _belong_ together, Flynn."

_Is she insane? Has this girl lost her mind, once and for all? She must have, to think that I would ever choose her, now that I've gotten a taste of what a healthy relationship_ _**actually** _ _looks like._

"Look, Stalyan." Eugene is sure to lean back carefully, resituating himself away from her. "You and I? Wasn't meant to be. We're not right for each other. We never were."

She pulls back a little herself, laughing as though something has deeply amused her.

" _Oh_ , I get it. Because you think that you and the beloved _Princess of Corona_ are." She retorts, the sarcasm dripping from her lips. "You know, I had the pleasure of meeting your royal pain in the ass earlier today. The little bitch walks around this kingdom like her shit doesn't smell. She's always so... _nice_ to everyone." Stalyan makes a face, showcasing her disapproval. "You can see right through her. I almost threw up in my mouth."

Almond eyes narrowed, this defamation against the best woman he's ever known, sets Eugene off completely. If he wasn't pissed off by Stalyan's sudden intrusion yet, he surely is now. Rapunzel is sweet, compassionate as can be, and the best part: she's completely genuine in the way she so fiercely loves those around her.

Eugene's voice leaves his mouth like shards of glass, words that he hopes will dagger Stalyan right in her cold, thoughtless heart.

"If I were you, I'd strongly reconsider the way you talk about the princess in front of me."

Stalyan simply waves her hand, brushing him off. They've known one another far too long for her to feel threatened now.

"What're _you_ going to do, Flynn? Sure, maybe slandering the king and queen is a crime… that is, if you're caught. But no one ever said anything about the precious little lost princess. _Please_. This kingdom was surviving just fine without her all those years. And now that I've actually met her… I'm really not sure what all the hype is about."

Eugene is getting really tired of Stalyan referring to him by his old name, and even sicker of her bad-mouthing the princess – _his_ princess – who, yes, is beyond precious in every way.

"I'll turn you in. Whatever little 'job' you have going on here, I'll tell someone. Seriously, don't test me. I'm not your puppet anymore."

Stalyan laughs heartily at that, nudging him in the arm.

"No, you _won't_." She leans in, dropping her voice to a hushed tone for her desired effect, with every intention of joyfully watching him squirm. "Because if you _do_ stab me in the back, again…" Stalyan smiles slyly, like a cat that can't be trusted. "I'll tell everyone that you're having an affair with the _married_ _princess_. And I'll start with her husband."

Eugene freezes, every drop of blood seemingly draining from his face.

"How did you know about that?"

"Well, I didn't, until just now." Stalyan shakes her head, snickering. "You sneaky bastard."

_This is just great. Now_ _**she,** _ _the biggest blabbermouth that I've ever known, knows about the affair. I'm surely going to be tied up in a noose by the time the sun is coming up tomorrow morning._

Eugene would say that things couldn't possibly get any worse, but he doesn't want to jinx himself.

In his extended time away from her, Eugene has forgotten what a stone cold _bitch_ this girl is. Stalyan has always had a flair for drama, always loved watching people squirm, pulling information from deep within them that they didn't want to share. She's nothing like his sweet princess, a princess who truly cares about the wellbeing of her kingdom, and the happiness of each individual living in it. Rapunzel has always remained humble, too, and would never even consider the notion that she's better than anyone else, simply because she's the princess – to _not_ be humble, is simply not in Rapunzel's nature.

This humbleness is completely unlike Stalyan. The girl walks around like she's some prize to be won, if only because she's the Baron's daughter. She'd been emotionally abusive, she'd walked all over Eugene for years, and she was nothing like Rapunzel, in the _best_ possible way. Eugene hadn't been perfect when he was still referring to himself as Flynn Rider, not by a long shot. He'd been good _with_ the ladies, but not always good _to_ them. He would be the first to admit it, and not proudly. But he'd deserved to be treated better than Stalyan had treated him, even considering the questionable person he'd been back then.

To sum it up, finding his kind, good-natured princess in that tower of hers, had been a much-needed change of pace for Eugene, after the emotional rollercoaster of a years-long, on-and-off-again relationship with Stalyan — one that had, yes, left her standing alone at the altar.

Eugene had dodged a _serious_ bullet there, making a run for it the morning of, praying the Baron and his henchmen wouldn't be hot on his heels in heavy pursuit. In the midst of his desperate getaway, the thief would be separated from Lance for the first time since their childhood spent in the orphanage together. That's when Eugene had decided to return to the kingdom of Corona, staying put there for a while. He would hop around to some of the neighboring kingdoms, too, even making his way to Maddoline a few times. Yet, he always found himself being pulled back to his home in Corona. Then, he would've said that pull had everything to do with being hired for jobs and collecting his cut of the check. Now, he would argue that it had everything to do with the fate of meeting Rapunzel.

As that fate would have it, back in Corona, Eugene would be hired for the job to steal the lost princess's crown with his occasional crime partners, the Stabbington brothers.

And now... well, now he's thinking about that very same lost princess, and how she's everything Stalyan never could've been for him.

Eugene _knows_ that leaving a woman at the altar is a top tier asshole move. He'd even felt a little guilty for it the next day – after all, they _did_ have a lot of history, a lot of messy strings attached. Those strings had gone completely tangled, but they were there, nonetheless. He'd known Stalyan would be furious about his sudden disappearance, and the Baron too, but Eugene had been too fed up for too long to care. After nearly ten years of knowing Stalyan, and dealing with her less-than-pleasant, manipulative tendencies, he couldn't take the abuse anymore. He surely couldn't imagine coming home to her every day for the rest of his life — lest he wanted to have an eternal migraine.

Skipping out on his future wife is a onetime thing, though – Eugene knows that, and it eases his own conscience. Leaving Rapunzel at the altar is something Eugene knows he would _never_ do. She's the breath of fresh air that he doesn't want to breathe out. He actually _wants_ to marry her, more than he's wanted anything in his life, really. He yearns for that forever commitment with Rapunzel, more than he'd ever wanted an island, a castle of his own, or more money than he'd be able to spend in a lifetime. Stalyan on the other hand... well, she was pretty much like choking on sawdust, and Eugene had only almost married her because he'd basically been blackmailed into it by her father, whom he'd frequently been hired by to steal precious treasure and highly coveted items.

_Thieving Life Hack #1: Don't date the daughter of the man you're working for. It's far too complicated, and you'll probably end up in a marriage you never wanted._

If Eugene had been able to marry Rapunzel as he'd always hoped, before Charles had stepped into the picture unexpectedly (Eugene's brain can't even handle thinking about the annoying _prince_ right now – he needs to focus on one homewrecker at a time), it would've been because he genuinely wants nothing more in life than to be her husband, give her a few babies that would hopefully look just like her, and grow old with her. It would mean praying that he passes away first, so he never has to go a day without her.

Growing old with Stalyan assumedly would have looked like a lot of fighting, an inevitable divorce, a very angry Baron, Eugene winding up paying a lot of child support, and probably becoming an alcoholic. Marriage to Stalyan would mean praying that he passes away first, just so he can get _away_ from her.

_That_ miserable picture snaps the former thief back to reality.

Now, Eugene thinks about the ring sitting in his nightstand – the ring meant for Rapunzel, which he _hadn't_ stolen for her – and he starts to feel positively queasy in the presence of his ex-girlfriend. The thought of the person he used to be makes him want to puke, and Stalyan is really good at coaxing the Flynn Rider out of him.

"Okay, Stalyan, that's enough. This little reunion is over. It was nice to see you, or whatever," _Okay, that's a complete lie, but whatever he needs to say to get her out of his room before Rapunzel shows up._ "But you need to leave." Eugene pauses, determined to make his intentions fully known. "And I mean leave the _palace_ , not just this general vicinity of my bedroom. Although you need to leave that, too, just so we're clear."

"I'm not going anywhere. Not until I get my payout." The young con-woman examines her fingernails for a moment. "And that could take a long, long time." Stalyan smiles brightly, as if a grand idea has entered her mind. "I know! I'll go make friends with the princess in the meantime, corrupt her a little. After all, she _was_ in a tower for eighteen years. Unless, of course… _you've_ already corrupted her. Which, knowing you, you probably have."

She was right. Eugene _had_ corrupted the princess. He'd had a lot of fun doing it, too.

"If you hurt her, if you go anywhere _near_ her, I swear —"

"What? You'll hurt _me_? You already did that, Flynn. And that's only _part_ of the reason why I'm here: to make your life a living hell, because that's exactly what you did to me." Stalyan's narrowed eyes soften, and her typical, sultry smile returns to her lips. "But, in the meantime, if you need a fuck buddy —"

"Trust me, I don't. And even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't choose you."

Stalyan sighs, a hint of frustration, or maybe what Eugene hopes is defeat, laced through her voice.

"You know... the princess might've burned you, but we burned pretty bright, once upon a time. I came here kind of hoping we could rekindle that fire."

She's isn't completely wrong. They had burned, in their own fucked up way — _crashed_ and burned, that is.

Their relationship had been toxic as toxic gets. The only upside to that high level of toxicity had been that it typically results in fantastic make-up sex. That's the only reason Eugene had stuck around for as long as he had – well, and the money that came with continually being employed by her well-connected father. But honestly, Eugene had _only_ liked Stalyan when they would have sex, as it was the only time she wasn't telling him how wrong he was — and even then, he'd never liked the Baron's daughter very much. She was calculated, and rude, and had a bad attitude bigger than the entire kingdom of Corona and the neighboring kingdoms combined.

Flynn Rider had been selfish as all hell, had a massive ego to match, and messed with people's trust for sport. The difference is, he feels guilty for the person he's been. Stalyan doesn't. She has to be the most narcissistic woman he'd ever known, stealing every trick from her father's sleeve, like having essentially no conscience, and manipulating people for all they're worth.

In hindsight, Stalyan had been perfect for Flynn Rider – but surely not perfect for Eugene Fitzherbert, who was an all-around changed man, shaped by the little hands of one princess.

Combing through the crippling guilt of the past in his mind, Eugene knows he would take non-toxic sex with Rapunzel over the arbitrarily exciting, crime-induced life he'd once lived with Stalyan, any day. Because with Rapunzel, _everything_ is a product of pure love — not a confusing mix of love hanging by a thread, but mostly mutual hatred.

"C'mon, Stalyan. That was different and you know it. I didn't love you like I love her."

Eugene looks her right in the eye when he says it, only because it's completely and utterly the truth – it's the truest thing he's ever said to her, and he doesn't regret the brutality of the statement. Not after the comments she'd made about Rapunzel.

"Ouch. Almost ten years of knowing each other, all of our wild memories, an _engagement_ , and that's all you have to say?" Stalyan shrugs, seemingly un-phased by his harsh honesty. "Either way, I suppose that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun, does it? All this history we have between us, that's gotta count for _something_ between the sheets."

_The girl really can't take_ _**no** _ _for an answer, can she?_

She's like a leech — good at sucking the energy out of you until she gets what she wants. She'd done it at least a dozen times in their on-and-off again relationship: come running back when he'd gotten fed up enough to walk away for a few days or weeks, and the vicious cycle would ensue all over again after one kiss.

But not this time. This time, she wouldn't get so far.

"Yeah... I don't think so. I'm in love with someone else! And no matter how many times you want to show up in my life, unannounced, there's nothing you can do to change that."

"Who said anything about changing it? All I'm saying is… what the princess doesn't know, can't hurt her."

Stalyan's suggestive hand is inching down the front of his chest, and he moves to shove her wrist away, when Eugene hears the worst sound he could've possibly heard in that moment: a sound that usually makes his knees go weak and his heart melt into a useless puddle.

"Am I _interrupting_ something?"

Rapunzel is standing there in the open doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in furious green slits. She's still dressed in that gorgeous red ball gown, just as Eugene had requested.

He'd wanted to take that dress off of her. Now, all Eugene wants is to disappear.

"Oh... hi, Princess."

It takes a moment, but Stalyan's face eventually registers in Rapunzel's memory bank, and her anger shifts momentarily to taken aback confusion.

"You're... you're the maid that I met earlier. The one that brought me my crown." The princess's eyes dart between the two ex-lovers, their history still undenounced to her. Rapunzel recoils, stepping away from the doorway, and Eugene knows that the worst possible case scenario must be running through her head – that he'd just been about to sleep with this mystery woman. "Do you two... _know_ each other?"

"Oh, Flynn and I go _way_ back."

Rapunzel narrows her eyes further at the mention of his former moniker.

This woman, whoever she really is, is calling him Flynn. Rapunzel _hates_ when people call Eugene by that name. Doing so completely rebukes all of the work Eugene has accomplished in order to change, to be a better man.

"We met when we were just wee little teenagers, didn't we?"

The still-unnamed woman rubs a hand up Eugene's arm, and Rapunzel considers how much trouble she'd be in if she were to break the woman's slender fingers.

"I'm Stalyan. I don't think I properly introduced myself when we met earlier."

Thankfully, Eugene flinches away from the woman – from _Stalyan's_ touch – staring at Rapunzel with a look that pleads, ' _Please don't be mad, I can explain.'_ Rapunzel's frown only draws itself deeper, her arms crossed over her chest, ignoring her love's broken expression.

"That's funny. Eugene's never mentioned you."

"Well, I can assume that I am a bit of a… _touchy_ _subject_ for… _Eugene_. After all, when we were engaged —"

"I'm sorry." Rapunzel interrupts, her voice cold as winter. "When you and Eugene were..." The princess's face transforms from confused, to saddened, and back to angry in a matter of just a few seconds. Her eyes rest upon Eugene's pleading expression once more, completely furious. "When you were _what_?"

_Shit_. _Stalyan really couldn't hold back, not even a little, huh?_ Eugene isn't the least bit surprised. He should've known that Stalyan had meant it when she'd said that she was here to make his life a living hell.

_Stalyan: 1. Eugene: 0._

" _Ohhh_... I see. Flynn never told you about that." Stalyan laughs a little, and it's obvious that she doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty about Rapunzel's newfound realization. "Well, this is awkward."

"Funny that you never mentioned that… _Flynn_."

Rapunzel speaks through gritted teeth, and Eugene can see the way her hands are shaking. He wishes he could hold her, plead with her to listen. The moment his old name leaves Rapunzel's mouth, Eugene knows this isn't going to be pretty. She hasn't called him that since the day they'd met. She'd taken to his real name immediately after he'd revealed it, very much preferring his true self to the show he'd put on as Flynn Rider.

Eugene quickly stands from the bed, making a beeline for the love of his life – the woman he knows is about to let her infrequent, but terrifying, fury lose on him.

"Rapunzel, can we talk? _Please?_ I'll tell you everything –"

He's pleading with her, she knows. Eugene has a hand wrapped gently, but firmly around her arm, ready to pull her into the hall, desperate to explain away the suggestive-looking scene before her.

"Fine." Rapunzel snaps, spinning to yank her arm from his grasp.

She huffs her way down the hallway, where they can have a bit of privacy from the open bedroom door, where Stalyan is still sitting on his bed, smiling evilly in response to the waves she's already stirred up. As Eugene had guessed, she's extremely proud of herself for successfully eliciting a fight between the ex-thief and the princess, after only one day of being in the palace.

When they're far enough away from Eugene's bedroom door to talk more openly, their tones hushed, Rapunzel questions Eugene immediately, and he prepares himself for the hard conversation they're about to have. He prays that he'll say the right thing, so as not to set her off any more than she surely already is.

"Eugene, was I... was I your _rebound_ from that girl?"

Eugene isn't sure where she'd learned the term _rebound_ (probably from Lance), but he's too focused on talking the princess down from her high ledge of anger to care.

" _No_! No, Rapunzel, of course not! You were never a rebound. I wasn't looking for someone when I met you."

"I can't believe that you were _engaged_ and never thought that would be important information for me to know!"

"She's not important to me anymore."

"But she _was_. At one time, you were in love with someone else enough to almost _marry_ them!" Rapunzel crosses her arms again, letting out an angry breath. "And she looked pretty important to you just now, sitting on your bed, with her hands all over you!"

Eugene finds himself growing frustrated, wishing she would just _listen_ long enough to understand that his intentions were pure, and that his heart still belongs to her alone.

"Rapunzel... do you even _hear_ yourself right now? You quite literally _are_ married! You go to sleep every night in the same bed as a man who isn't _ME_! Has that fact been lost from your memory?"

She's taken a bit aback, her voice gone timid for a moment at his harsh question, as his own voice rises – something he's never really done towards her before.

"Well, no, but —"

"Then how can you seriously be mad at me right now? How can you be mad for what happened before I ever _met_ you?

Rapunzel shakes her head, in awe of Eugene's ignorant response, completely frustrated that her love doesn't comprehend the principle of the situation.

"I'm not holding a grudge against your past, Eugene. I never have, you know that. I'm mad that you hid something so significant from me." Her hands are flying this way and that as she speaks, and he can see that her irritation is about to peak. "I didn't hide anything from you, I never would! I didn't _know_ I was going to have to marry someone else, and I definitely didn't _want_ to! That's not a secret that I kept!"

Eugene sighs, knowing the young, shaken up princess has a point.

"Look, I'm sorry. I should've told you a long time ago about Stalyan," Tentative fingers reach out to caress either side of her face, making his voice as soft as he can, despite his own irritation. He's relieved when Rapunzel actually lets him take her face in his hands. "But things were different with her. I wasn't engaged to her because I was in love, I was engaged to her because her father had blackmail on me. A lot of it. Like, almost _ten years' worth_. I was going to get in big trouble if I didn't do what they wanted."

She's looking up at him, the anger still etched across her cute face. But she's listening, and that's a step in the right direction, so Eugene carries on.

"But I walked away! And I guess... I guess I just thought that I could leave the past, in the past." He takes his princess by the shoulders suddenly, desperately wanting her to understand the posture of his heart. " _You_ are the only woman I've ever been in love with, Rapunzel, and that's the honest truth. And I thought I could have a fresh start with you…" Eugene shakes his head, defeated. "But look how that turned out."

The princess scoffs, shaking his hands from her, not surprised that he'd made a jab about her sudden marriage – as if she'd _chosen_ for it to happen.

"Regardless of how things _turned_ _out_ with us, Eugene, you still should've told me about her. I had a right to know! You had an entire year to be honest with me! And you were always going on about how 'people who love each other, are _honest_!'"

His chest deflates, and Eugene runs an irritated hand over his face, because he knows she's right. He _had_ said that in their first year together, a lot. And he'd meant it, then, but more about their feelings for one another, and less about his checkered past.

"You're right, Blondie. You're right. I did. And like I said, I'm sorry for that. I shouldn't have hidden something that big from you." Eugene's face looks... sad, his voice tipped with vanquish when he finishes. "But does it really matter now?"

Rapunzel's eyes go wide, then narrow once more, and Eugene knows he's made a misstep. A big one.

"Yes! Of _course_ it matters! How could you even ask that?" Rapunzel, suddenly so enthralled with his past, is deeply offended that he'd question her right to be angry.

"Because we can't change what happened in my past, Rapunzel! We've talked about this before. I did things I wasn't proud of, a lot of them. This? This is one of those things! I can't go back and change that I almost married her. I wish I hadn't, and I wish I hadn't kept that from you." _Don't dig your hole deeper, don't dig your hole deeper…_ "But I did, and now _you_ are married to someone else. Don't you understand now, how much it's been _killing_ me to watch you with him? And I understand why you're angry with me right now, I really do, but —"

"Eugene… I'm not in love with Charles. I have no history with him! I don't want some girl, who looks like... like… _that_ , coming here and stealing you away!"

Now it's Eugene's turn to scoff, only because this comment is completely ludicrous in his mind.

"You were already stolen away from me by a _freaking prince._ I don't know that there's much more 'stealing' anyone can do here!"

If Eugene wasn't so upset, he would laugh at the irony of her metaphor, that an ex-thief could be stolen away.

She blinks, soaking in his statement.

Maybe Eugene is right. What _are_ they fighting for anymore? Delusion, false hope, a far-off notion that they would be able to be together someday, like they once had? That isn't going to happen. She's married now, and they surely can't keep sneaking around like this forever. So do any of his past mistakes _really_ matter, even if they come knocking at his doorstep?

"Well, maybe we should just end this, then. If that's how you really feel."

"Maybe we should." Eugene regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth, but he's too upset to immediately snatch them back.

"Fine."

" _Fine_."

"Have fun with the... _maid_."

"Have fun with your prince!"

" _Ugh_!" Rapunzel stamps her foot, leaning in close to Eugene. Their faces are only inches apart now, but not for the reason Eugene had hoped they would've been close tonight, when he'd met her in the hallway outside of the banquet hall, and whispered dirty things in her ear. "You're acting like... like —"

"Go on, say it!"

" _You're acting like Flynn Rider!_ " She exclaims in a strangled voice that tells him she's about to cry, the words bursting violently from her chest. "And Flynn Rider is _not_ the man that I fell in love with!"

_Ouch. Okay, that stung a little._

This was an insult for the ages, at least in her mind, and Eugene knows it.

"Well, actually, you kind of —"

" _No_." Rapunzel interrupts, knowing what he's about to say, her firm voice demanding his full attention. "I fell in love with you when you started acting like Eugene. The Eugene that _I_ know. The Eugene that took me on a boat to see the lanterns, the Eugene that gave up everything he'd ever known to stay here in the palace with me, the Eugene that didn't _hide_ things from me. _That's_ the man that I fell in love with."

Her bottom lip trembling, tears in her eyes, Rapunzel turns suddenly, storming down the hallway and up the stairwell, her skirts flowing behind her in an angry, red curtain. Eugene's heart breaks – no, it _shatters_ , into a million Rapunzel-shaped pieces as he watches her disappear up the stairs, surely to return to her room, where she'll burst into tears. The image makes Eugene's head hurt. He considers chasing after her, but feels a slender hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

"Let her go, Flynn. Just let her go."

* * *

After quite literally _shoving_ Stalyan from his bedroom, Eugene paces the stuffy room for quite some time, wondering what he needs to do to get Rapunzel to forgive him, to believe the scene with Stalyan on his bed hadn't been what it looked like. He kicks himself endlessly, completely pissed off at Stalyan for showing back up in his life at such a time as this (or for showing up at all, _ever_ ). But he's more so pissed off at himself, knowing he should've been honest about the entirety of his romantic past with Rapunzel a long time ago.

Eugene rips his bedding from the bed and throws it angrily to the floor, frustrated that Stalyan had sat there, in a place where he and Rapunzel had shared so many special moments and so many firsts. Suddenly, he feels a need to wash the sheets immediately.

The bedding had just been freshly washed, too. And just like she does with so many things, one touch from Stalyan had tainted it. What once had been pure and poured over with the sunshine that is Rapunzel, had been darkened by Stalyan.

What Eugene had told the angry princess, is true: Rapunzel _is_ the only woman Eugene has ever been in love with. He'd loved Stalyan, inevitably cared about her after knowing her for so long, in a really twisted way. But that was a long time ago, and he'd been a completely different man the last time he'd felt _anything_ romantic toward her.

He knows he probably should've told Rapunzel about his almost being married before, but he'd decided against doing so long ago, when they'd first moved into the palace. He honestly hadn't really thought about Stalyan since. Despite their prior engagement and nearly a decade of knowing her, his relationship with Stalyan just didn't seem significant enough to worry Rapunzel over. Eugene hadn't wanted the princess to think that his almost-marriage to Stalyan would've meant what marriage to Rapunzel would mean to him.

The Baron's daughter had never held the kind of weight that Rapunzel holds in Eugene's heart, had never _changed_ him like Rapunzel was capable of. Losing Stalyan hadn't broken Eugene in the way that losing Rapunzel a few months ago had completely destroyed him, and continues to destroy him. His life without Stalyan had been a lot more peaceful; life without Rapunzel is unbearable.

With Stalyan, Eugene had been defiant, stubborn, always fighting for the upper hand. With Rapunzel, he was gentle and soft, putty in her hands, and not afraid of being wrong. With Stalyan, sex was sex, and nothing more. With Rapunzel, he made pure, blissful love, the kind that makes you forget your own name. With Stalyan, the rain had been a good reason to stay inside and rehash old arguments. With Rapunzel, a rainy day was a good excuse to dance in the courtyard without shoes, jumping from puddle to puddle. With Stalyan, every man was a man worth impressing, a man to woo and tease. With Rapunzel, Eugene was the only man in the world, the only man worth teasing, and she was damn good at it.

With Stalyan, life had been a miserable cycle of mistake after mistake, fight after fight. With Rapunzel, life had been beautiful, purposeful – dare he say, life with Rapunzel, before the marriage to Charles, before Stalyan's sudden arrival, had been nothing short of perfect.

Eugene's anger towards Rapunzel for her Flynn Rider comment subsides in about five minutes. He recalls something she'd said to him what feels like years ago now: _"For the record, I like Eugene Fitzherbert_ _ **much**_ _better than Flynn Rider."_ He remembers the warmth deep in his stomach in that moment, like butterflies had erupted there. She'd said it so sweetly, with so much authenticity, sitting there by the fire that first night they'd spent together, after she'd healed his hand. _No one_ had ever preferred his true self to his cool, charming alter ego.

Not even Stalyan, after so many years of knowing him. It had only taken _one_ _night_ for Rapunzel to crash right through his well-built façade, to open him up, to dissect what was really inside.

Eugene wonders if that's the very moment he'd unknowingly started falling for Rapunzel, there in the firelight, after bearing their hearts to one another for the first time. He'd fallen for her so hard because she'd liked him, _for him_. And now, after this walk down memory lane, Eugene realizes the weight of what she'd said before she'd ran down the hallway only a little while ago.

Though she was so angry when she'd called him out for ripping a 'Does anything really matter?' page straight from the Flynn Rider handbook, Rapunzel had all but said: _"I've always loved you, for_ _ **you**_ _. What other woman can say that?"_

The previously happy pair had rarely fought, and the few times they _had_ argued in their first year living in the palace, one of them would typically be knocking on the other's bedroom door in less than an hour, apologizing profusely. Usually, Eugene and Rapunzel would fall into one another's arms in an instant, whispering sweet nothings into the other's ear about how wrong they were, and how sorry they are.

But things are wildly different now. This was big, the biggest fight they'd ever gotten into, a fight fueled by four months of stress, and words that cut deeper than anything she's ever said to him out of frustration before. Even then, Eugene can't blame Rapunzel for the anger she's feeling towards him right now.

For this reason, Eugene knows he can't fix this with a simple 'I love you,' which usually would be followed by wrapping Rapunzel in his arms, and a subsequent make out session, in which he'd pepper her body with kisses, telling her what an idiot he is. Likely, it would take time for Rapunzel to believe that his feelings toward Stalyan and her unexpected arrival were nothing but surprise – and trying to figure out why she's here at the palace, so he could figure out the best way to get her to _leave_.

It's been a long time since Eugene has thought long and hard about Stalyan. Despite the many years they'd spent together, she isn't someone that crosses his mind very often – at least, not since he'd found Rapunzel. Pretty much since the day he'd met her, the princess has completely consumed Eugene and all of his being. His every thought, his every hope and dream has consisted of Rapunzel, in a way that the Baron's daughter _never_ had control over him. He'd never ached for Stalyan deep in his bones, hadn't lost sleep when she was away from him, hadn't wanted her quite as desperately as Eugene wants Rapunzel each and every day.

Sure, he and Stalyan had made good partners, as far as the execution of both large and small scale heists go. But when it came to romance, Stalyan and Eugene had been like oil and water. They'd both done as they'd wanted, selfishly unwilling to bend over backwards, or even bend _a little_ , for the other person. Their fights were explosive, their make-ups short-lived, and the notion that it would be a good idea for them to get _married,_ had been laced with the delusion of being young and dumb.

But Eugene is a grown man now, a man who has _learned_ from his abundance of mistakes. He's twenty-five, and he yearns only for security, stability, and contentment. This is wildly unlike the constant adventure and freedom that his younger self had wanted so badly. He's no longer some eighteen-year-old kid who only _really_ cares about two things: money and himself.

Marrying Stalyan, always staying connected to the Baron, had been a fairly smart plan of action, if only considering things from a money standpoint. But the once-pleasant relations between Eugene and the Baron had started to go seriously south when the former thief began a romantic relationship with his crime partner's daughter. The Baron was incredibly protective over his precious Stalyan, and Eugene – _Flynn Rider_ , rather – had crossed a bold line, a line that the Baron hadn't been happy about.

Regardless, what Stalyan wants, Stalyan typically gets, and despite being unhappy about the arrangement, the Baron had forced Eugene into the marriage far sooner than he was ready for it. Even if he didn't exactly appreciate the idea of the thief screwing his daughter, the Baron wanted to keep Eugene around too, if only because he was good at what he did, and made the Baron a lot of money. Marriage hadn't been on Eugene's radar back then, not even in the slightest, but Stalyan begged, pleaded, and even threw a tantrum or two. So, to shut her up, Eugene had stolen a diamond ring. The Baron, eager to please his high maintenance daughter, had milked every last bit of blackmail he'd had on Eugene after nearly a decade of working together. This was to ensure that he wouldn't skip town before the wedding, because the Baron had known that's something Flynn Rider would do.

And, right on track, that's exactly what he'd done. Just before the ceremony, Eugene had hightailed it back to Corona in a tuxedo, not even stopping long enough to say goodbye to Lance, or even to tell his childhood best friend where he was going. And really, Eugene wasn't all that sorry for it – because if he hadn't, if he'd never had the courage to walk away from Stalyan and the Baron once and for all, he probably never would've met Rapunzel.

And an alternate life in which he'd never known Rapunzel, despite the _current_ mess of their lives, is an alternative that Eugene just can't bear to consider.

Now, he's picturing Rapunzel in that red dress again, looking all _perfect_ and shit, so unsuspecting and _trusting_ , and his fist flies unintentionally into the wall. The skin on his knuckles sting and split, immediately starting to bleed.

Aren't things already fucked up enough with Charles around? It seems a little repetitious for Stalyan to show up. As if Eugene's luck hadn't been bad enough lately, now he has to deal with not only one person who could destroy the relationship Rapunzel and Eugene are hanging onto by a thread, but two.

Eugene considers stomping his way upstairs, dragging himself to Rapunzel's bedroom, pounding on the door and begging her to forgive him, but he assumes that wouldn't be the brightest idea. Charles could easily be there, or come upon him, and a fight with _Charles_ is the last thing Eugene needs right now. Despite how much it had killed him not to chase after Rapunzel, he knows he'll have to find some other way to talk to her, to explain everything.

So instead, Eugene finds a bandage for his hand, wraps his bleeding knuckles tightly, strides to the door, and locks it. He strips down to his undergarments, gets into bed, and tries his damn hardest not to cry. He's a grown man, a man who's lived through at least six months in jail, a stab wound, and the love of his life being married off to another man. And he can't handle Stalyan? Still, he can't stop the few tears that escape, rolling down his cheeks pathetically. Eugene sniffles, angrily wiping them away, knowing he only has himself to blame for Rapunzel's outburst.

The princess has every right to be upset with him. He'd hidden something from her, something important. Eugene knows that, and he'd responded to her anger like a total asshole. He'd responded like she doesn't have a right to be angry: just like Flynn Rider would have. In his frustration, he'd unwillingly planted the _untrue_ idea in her head that he doesn't want to fight for her anymore, for their relationship. Typically, he was always so patient, so gentle with Rapunzel, and he feels a heavy guilt settling in his stomach for the way he'd acted. But lately, everything has been so out of sorts – including Eugene. He knows he didn't handle the conversation the way he normally would have, had the last few months not been so stress-induced.

Eugene sighs deeply, rolling over in bed, knowing he's not going to get much sleep tonight. The only thing that's going to be on his mind for the next eight, miserable hours is Rapunzel, how badly he wants to hold her, and the image of her crying in the bed she shares with Charles. She should be here in bed, with him.

She would've been, had Stalyan not shown up.

Was Eugene's past _ever_ going to stop knocking on his door, literally?

**AN: Oh, no. Commence the first big falling out New Dream has had so far in this story. How do we feel about all of the angst, and about Stalyan being around to stir the pot? Hasn't our favorite couple been stressed enough in the last four months?**

**This chapter's featured song is Bitch Came Back by Theory of a Deadman. This song gave me pure Stalyan and Eugene vibes — how he probably would've felt during much of their on-and-off again long-term relationship, and in the midst of her return. Their relationship seemed like a bit of a... well, in my opinion, it seemed like a hot mess, assumedly filled with a lot of name calling, emotional abuse, and dare I say, probably some cheating. We all know that Rapunzel is the only woman Eugene ever would've even** _**considered** _ **changing for, and Stalyan is about to wreak some of her own havoc in retaliation to that. She still wants Eugene... but then again, can we** _**really** _ **blame her? He is irresistible, after all.**

**We're about to have a lot of jealousy going on around here, in the form of a love…** _**square** _ **? I hope to see you in Chapter 12 and thank you so much for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Does anyone else hate when New Dream is on the outs? Yeah, me too. I should really stop throwing curve balls at our favorite lovebirds, but writing the angsty stuff is just too much fun for me. Today's featured song is Miserable by Lit. It reminded me of the hard conversations Eugene and Rapunzel have in this chapter, and I just enjoy the song. This song inspired the chapter title, as well, as I'm a bit of a lyric junkie.
> 
> Okay, enough rambling from me. Enjoy the new chapter! It's a long one, and also Rated M. Because, you know, making up can be fun, too.

**Chapter 12: Give Up All of My Plans, but Who Needs Them? (When You Mean Everything)**

Rapunzel isn't quite sure of anything anymore. She feels completely out of sorts, just as she had when her bare feet had touched the soft grass the first time she'd ever left her tower – the bold freedom of that day, and the intense guilt that had followed. Today, every emotion in the book is flooding rapidly through her body – emotions that tell her that she's the worst kind of person, because her actions have hurt someone she loves. This plethora of feelings forces Rapunzel to swing back and forth like an unhinged pendulum, from anger, to sadness, to guilt, and back again, making her feel dizzy and confused.

Despite all that she's learned in the last almost year and a half of living outside of her tower, Rapunzel feels like she doesn't know much about anything at all.

There are a few things that Rapunzel _does_ know. She knows that she's a princess. She knows now that those lights in the sky _had_ been meant for her, after they'd pulled upon her heart strings for her entire life. She knows that she'd been taken once, as baby, for the magical properties of her hair. She knows she'd been found by the most wonderful man in the world, returned to her rightful place with her parents – her _real_ parents. She knows that her parents had felt little joy in her longwinded absence, and that they feel guilty for the way the joy _she'd_ found was taken from her – guilty for not being able to do more to stop her marriage to Charles, and for the role they'd played in signing the marriage agreement with the Maddolineon council when she was only a baby, just before she'd been taken by Gothel. This guilt is rooted deep; she can see it on her parent's faces every time they look at her, even four months later.

They look at her like she's too fragile for this world, as though she may break at any moment, and she resents it.

Rapunzel knows that her parents love her, with a love that is true, and that she loves her parents. She knows that her mother doesn't lie to her, not in the way that the woman she'd _thought_ was her mother had. She knows that her mother thinks she's beautiful, and that her admiration for Rapunzel goes beyond her hair, and that her father would protect her with his life. She knows that the marriage isn't their fault, at least not directly. She knows that it had been just as much of a surprise to them as it had been to her and Eugene. She knows that she shouldn't be angry with them, because her parents love her in a way that is pure and unquestionable, but a part of her still is. She can't help it. She simply tries to hide it the best she can, so as not to hurt their feelings or worry them.

Rapunzel knows that she'd lived a traumatic life. That word, _traumatic_ ; people had thrown it around a lot when she'd first arrived at the palace, but Rapunzel still isn't quite sure that she has a full grasp of what it really means. She knows that what Gothel had done – the way she'd treated and belittled her, the way she'd hidden her away, the way she'd stolen Rapunzel from her parents for her own selfish gain – had been deeply wrong. She knows that she's angry with Gothel for the way she'd hurt Eugene, the way she'd left him there on the tower floor to die. That had been a traumatic day, Rapunzel knows.

Regardless, life in the tower, pre-Eugene, pre-lanterns, had been utterly _normal_ for her – she'd never known anything different. Sometimes, it's hard to hate Gothel completely, in the way she knows she should, in the way Eugene and her parents do. Because Rapunzel knows, even if Gothel had never truly loved her, _she_ had truly loved Gothel. And for a long time, she'd believed every word the woman had fed to her. Sometimes, Rapunzel can still hear Gothel's condescending voice in her ear, telling her that she's too plain, too weak to handle herself, too naïve for the world, and that everyone may turn on her in any moment. _'Trust me, my dear, that's how fast he'll leave you.'_ But Eugene would never do that.

Right?

Though Rapunzel feels a deep-rooted anger towards her, resentment for her many years of lies and manipulation, some days, the princess still feels grief for losing the person she'd thought was her mother for eighteen years. She can't help it. Rapunzel had felt a strange twist of agony and relief when she'd watched Gothel fall from the tower window. She would never admit such a thing out loud, not even to Eugene, and especially not to her mother – her _real_ mother, who she loves dearly, and who loves her back with a love that is genuine. But some days, Rapunzel feels the need to grieve Gothel, though she can't really explain why, and she usually winds up feeling ashamed for it. After all, the woman had almost killed the love of her life. _Shouldn't_ she hate her, with a hate that's intense and deep?

Despite this fleeting grief that sometimes crosses her mind, Rapunzel doesn't regret putting the pieces of her identity as the lost princess together, or the way she'd fought for those pieces with everything she was worth. She doesn't regret the way she'd fought for Eugene – the way she'd fought for his life, too, and she doesn't regret the way he'd cut her hair clean off. She definitely doesn't regret that Gothel is gone because of Eugene's sacrificial decision. Yet, Rapunzel sometimes finds herself _missing_ the lying woman. And she hates herself for it.

It's all very confusing.

Rapunzel knows that being a princess is an honor. She knows that it's a privilege to love her kingdom, to feel the love her people have for her in return. But she also knows that being a princess is tiring, exhausting even, and all around not what she'd expected it to be. This isn't always a bad thing. Rapunzel likes surprises, for the most part. But sometimes, like where jam-packed schedules and arranged marriages are concerned, she wishes she would've had a bit more of a heads up concerning the expectations of a royal family member.

Rapunzel knows that sex is good, or at the very least, normal, even though a lot of people like to say it's not. She knows that there are many good people in the world, and many bad people, but that not everything is so black and white. She knows that there are good people who have done bad things, like Eugene. She also knows that there are bad people who do good things in order to use you, like Gothel. She knows that dancing in the rain will give you a runny nose the next day, but it's worth it to feel so alive. She knows that noble people ( _stuffy, stuck up_ _people_ , as Eugene would say), will stare at you for not wearing any shoes, but the feeling of your toes in the warm grass, is worth all the stares in the world. She knows that there are people you can trust, and people you can't trust; people who have your best interest at heart, like Eugene and her parents, and people who make you _think_ you can trust them, like Gothel.

She knows that there are people who love you, and people who just _say_ they love you, and that sometimes, the lines between the two can be very blurred.

The world is _beautiful_ , don't get Rapunzel wrong. She relishes daily in the feeling of the sun on her skin, the unconditional love of her parents, and the intricacy of every conversation, every relationship, every feeling that comes with being human. She awakes each day, thankful for the freedom in no longer being trapped in her tower. But Gothel was right, if only about one thing: the world is also selfish, and cruel, and will not falter in destroying even the smallest rays of sunlight.

Rapunzel would like to think of herself as a positive person. Lately, though, it's hard not to focus on all of the ways that the natural light inside of her has been snuffed out by her recent string of bad luck. She often recalls the night that Eugene had been tied to the boat by the Stabbington's and put in prison – the night Rapunzel had returned to the tower with Gothel, fully believing that Eugene had betrayed her for the crown. She'd been so heartbroken, so confused, still on a high from the day they'd shared in the kingdom together, and the night in the boat, watching the lanterns float around them. The way he'd almost kissed her. Rapunzel considers the way everything had been going so perfectly when her dream of seeing the lanterns had finally been fulfilled, the way it had ended just as quickly as it had begun. She considers how her new dream, her dream of staying outside the tower with Eugene, had been ripped away just as fast.

Rapunzel recalls the moment Gothel had told her that Eugene would be hanged for his crimes, and how, in that moment, she'd wanted to die, too.

This feels like a reoccurring storyline in the princess's life now: Eugene being taken from her, in which she has little to no power in stopping it. Rapunzel feels completely helpless and unsure of herself, for the first time since arriving at the palace. She feels as though there's nothing she can do aside from constantly question what's real and what isn't, just as she had that night she'd been forced to go back to the tower.

The princess often recalls the moment she'd realized her true identity, who she really was all that time, and the battle that had ensued with Gothel, which had left her begging and pleading on the floor. She remembers screaming for Eugene, her heart beating out of her chest as she'd watched Gothel stab him in the side. _Traumatic_. Maybe she does understand that word. She'd pleaded with Gothel to let her heal Eugene as he'd crawled toward her in utter agony, begging _her_ not to do what she was about to – begging her not to go away with Gothel forever, for his sake.

She would've done it, gone away with Gothel, allow herself to be hidden away for the rest of her life, even after getting an intoxicating taste of what the world is really like. In a heartbeat, she would've given up her freedom for his, let herself be used forever, if only so he wouldn't have to die. Rapunzel often wonders – no, _tortures_ herself with the idea – of what would have happened if she _had_ healed Eugene with her hair in that moment, if he'd never cut it off. Would Eugene have found a way to pick the lock of the shackles that Gothel had put his wrist in, and chased after Rapunzel? Would he have starved to death, shackled to that beam, unable to get to her? Would she really have lived out the rest of her days with Gothel, knowing she isn't her mother, knowing she'd only been using her for her hair, all that time?

Rapunzel remembers the firm words she'd spoken to Gothel that horrible day: _'No! I won't stop! For every minute of the rest of my life, I will fight.'_

_I'll fight for him, even if he's not here anymore. Even if you take him from me._

Considering this memory, recalling the strength and courage of her past self, Rapunzel feels completely ashamed. She hasn't been fighting so much lately. Not for herself, not for him. Not like she would have a year ago. Now… now, she's just tired.

Well, that's not entirely true. She has been fighting, but not for Eugene, as she should be. She's been fighting _with_ Eugene, and that hurts almost as badly as watching him die on the floor.

Almost.

For two days of Rapunzel's life, _two days,_ she'd been truly free.

For two days, she'd experienced the world without Gothel's voice constantly in her ear saying: _'You can't do it. You're not strong enough, you're not smart enough, you're not pretty enough. You're not_ _ **enough**_ _.'_ She'd experienced the world, not for what _Gothel_ had told her it was, but she'd been able to see everything for _herself_ , and had realized that the world really isn't so bad after all. She'd been terrified, admittedly, to leave her tower. But she'd had Eugene to guide her, to show her that, while the world _is_ a little messed up and scary, and while people make mistakes in their lives, there is always room for redemption, and always room for love. The real kind, not the kind that makes you cling to lies and deceit, the kind that makes you afraid to trust yourself and your own judgement. But the kind that makes you cling to the truth of who you really are.

It had only taken two days. Two, measly days for Rapunzel to fall in love with the first man she'd ever met, and two days for him to cut her hair clean off – to eradicate the only thing she'd ever believed would provide her with a sense of self-worth, with a sense of purpose. It had taken him only two days to rid her of the power Gothel had over her, once and for all.

It was the ultimate sacrifice. The girl _without_ the magic hair, still having a life to live, for the price of his life ceasing. And in that moment, she'd known that Eugene loved her back. Not even because he'd come for her – he could've done that out of sheer guilt – but because he'd been willing to _die_ for her. He didn't have to cut her hair. He could've let her heal him, and be on his merry way, but he'd showcased their mutual love in the harshest way possible. They didn't have to say it. All he had to say was, _'You were my new dream.'_ And then, she knew. It was more powerful than any 'I love you' could have been. She'd known in that moment that this man was her fate, and that her fate had just been ripped violently from her hands by the woman she'd trusted, the woman she'd thought to be her mother.

Eugene had been just as much her fate as those lanterns in the sky. And just like those lanterns, he had eventually burned out, his body gone cold there on the tower floor. And she'd cried and cried, holding his lifeless body to her, wishing she could just die right there beside him, because what did she have to live for now, really?

_Traumatic_.

Now, over a year later, Rapunzel feels like she doesn't know anything at all. She knows that she's a princess, and she knows that her being a princess has her trapped all over again. Not in her tower, but this time, in a marriage that she would never be content with, not when she'd created this perfect image in her mind of a life with Eugene. She knows that her parents love her, but that sometimes, even parents can't fix things when they go horribly wrong. But that's about where Rapunzel's knowledge of the world ends.

She'd had two days of freedom from her tower, two days of adventure without the boundaries of the palace walls, two days to quench her curious spirit – two days of freedom with him. _Two days._

Now, Rapunzel's not even entirely sure how Eugene feels about her anymore, what with that woman, _Stalyan_ , being on his bed last night, her hands splayed across his chest, inching their way down.

Now, Rapunzel is questioning _everything_ , just as she had that night she'd returned to the tower with Gothel, after Eugene's staged betrayal. She questions where she and Eugene stand after the fight they'd had last night, when he'd agreed that maybe, their love isn't worth fighting for anymore, what with her being married to Charles. She questions what sex really means, and whether it's something meant to be thrown around, and done with just anyone. Eugene had told her the opposite a long time ago, saying that sex, though it _is_ thrown around often, for their purposes, is really intended to be beautiful – like the tangling of two souls, when those souls are meant to be together, as theirs were. And that's exactly what it had felt like to make love with him, as though her soul was eternally attached to his, forever tangled up in him.

But now, she isn't so sure. Rapunzel wonders if Eugene had ever really loved her at all. Or if, like Gothel, he'd only pretended to, because she had a palace, and a crown, and a new, lavish life.

_No. That's not true, it can't be._

Eugene loves her, with a love that's real and unconditional. And Rapunzel knows it, even if she doesn't want to admit it right now. If this weren't true, he never would have stuck around for this long. He would have high-tailed it out of Corona the moment she'd gotten married to Charles. If he didn't truly love her, he never would've rocked her in his arms all those late nights she'd had horrific nightmares, in their first months living in the palace. If he didn't truly love her, he wouldn't have each micro-expression of hers memorized, able to translate every flicker in her eyes, every slight change in her tone of voice. If he didn't truly love her, he wouldn't be the only one not to scold her for not wearing shoes, or for getting a little too excited about the things no one else gets excited about. If he didn't truly love her, he wouldn't tuck her hair behind her ears when it falls into her eyes, he wouldn't let her steal the covers from him at night, and he wouldn't protect her so fiercely.

If Eugene didn't truly love her, he wouldn't have _changed_ – he wouldn't have been so eager to leave the past, in the past, for her – abandoning Flynn Rider for good, and everything it had been for him.

But the past isn't quite so forgiving. The thought of Stalyan's hands on Eugene's chest makes Rapunzel feel sick. The thought of that woman's hands being anywhere _beyond_ his chest, under his clothes, makes Rapunzel want to positively throw up.

The princess, lost in her thoughts, pads slowly down the hallway, bathed in early-morning sunlight, her nose shoved deep into the yellowed pages of a book. Rapunzel has loved to read since her youth in the tower, mostly because she'd been forced to find ways to entertain herself for eighteen years. In her tower, she'd only had a few books to choose from, books she'd read over and over again, to the point where she could eventually recite every line without cracking the book open itself.

Now, the princess is exposed to the endless palace library, in which there are more books than she could ever want; far more than she could read in a single lifetime. The thought makes Rapunzel feel a little anxious, knowing she'll never have the time to read each and every one, what with her busy schedule as the princess. Rapunzel enjoys reading and learning so much in fact, that she often gets so lost in an enthralling book that she can't help but let it consume her every free moment.

Like right now.

Cassandra has scolded the free-spirited princess about walking and reading enough times to know that she should probably stop doing it. But she hasn't fallen down a flight of stairs yet, so she can't find a good enough reason to end the potentially dangerous habit. Maybe it's just a silly coping mechanism, to get lost in a world that doesn't exist. Silly or not, successfully coping is the one thing Rapunzel knows for _sure_ would feel good.

Well, that and a warm hug from Eugene, but that doesn't seem too likely right now.

Rapunzel had cried all night, after rushing to her bedroom after the fight with Eugene, the salty tears coating her pillowcase as Charles snored quietly at the other end of the overly-massive bed, completely oblivious to her pain. She'd rolled over and stared at the prince, her husband, for a while.

That word, _husband_ – it still doesn't sit right with Rapunzel. She knows that she's married, that Charles is her husband now, but he doesn't _feel_ like her husband, not the way she knows Eugene would have.

This is probably because nothing with Charles feels… natural. His hands are always cold, and his smile always tight, and there's something about him that just feels… _wrong_. It's not that Rapunzel thinks he'll hurt her, per say, it's just that there has never been a satisfying _click_ between them, no _spark_. There isn't that funny, tingly feeling in the pits of her belly when she looks at him, the one she'd felt when she'd looked at Eugene's face for the first time, as he'd laid there on her tower floor, knocked out cold from her frying pan. With Charles, there's just blank stares, and guilt, and the knowledge that he probably deserves better – he deserves a wife that is actually capable of loving him, even a little. Rapunzel knows that she could try harder to get to know him, to make an effort with him. But the princess is just so tired of pretending, and she can't shake the feeling that something about Charles is positively _off_.

And maybe it's all just in Rapunzel's head, because being with _anyone_ that's not Eugene would always feel wrong.

Watching him sleep, wiping the tears from her eyes, Rapunzel had considered how vastly _different_ Charles is from Eugene. For starters, the prince's entire face is always freshly shaven. Eugene shaves too; Rapunzel had perched herself on his bathroom sink enough times to know, watching him drag a sharp blade across his face, with shaving cream lathered on his cheeks. This always made him look quite silly, like he had a big, white beard. She would giggle, and he'd point the blade at her jokingly, saying to her, _'You know, Blondie, I didn't get this handsome by just letting myself go.'_ She would watch closely as he'd shave carefully, always leaving just the hair on his chin, because _'Real men take pride in their facial hair.'_ But sometimes, Eugene wouldn't shave for a few days, and his face would grow quite prickly, and he'd rub the course hair against her soft cheeks, if only to hear the sound of her laughter.

She's never watched him do it, if only because something about it feels so _intimate_ for some reason, but Rapunzel is sure that Charles has never missed a single day of shaving. He usually smells like aftershave, and typically dresses very formally, far more formally than Eugene, even when he's dressed in his guard uniform.

Sure, he's a prince, which means there is a higher air of expectation about Charles. But Rapunzel prefers Eugene's casual attire – a leather vest, boots, and a white, long sleeve shirt, which usually has a button or two loose at the top. His wardrobe is rather simple, but he always manages to look breathtakingly handsome. Charles's formality goes far beyond his clothes, melding into his personality. He's always so… _stiff_ , so eager to impress, as if he's not comfortable with simply being himself. Rapunzel doesn't feel like she really knows anything about him, aside from the fact that he's a prince, and that he likes to brag about how _'Maddoline is a superiorly beautiful kingdom, in which the princess would fit in perfectly.'_

Rapunzel far prefers that Eugene mostly only cares about impressing her, and sometimes, her parents. But mostly just her.

The princess _should_ be with her parents and Charles right now, enjoying Christmas morning breakfast, exchanging presents together. Last year, she'd woken Eugene up at the crack of dawn, jumping on his bed. He'd moaned and groaned that 5 a.m. was far too early to be woken up in such a manner, even on Christmas. She'd only giggled, dragging him out of bed after peppering his face with kisses in the dark, coaxing him from the warmth of the blankets, into the warmth of her ever-present wonder for the world. She'd raced up the stairs, her love in tow, so excited to experience Christmas morning in the palace for the first time. Eugene had groaned all the while, still half-asleep as she'd tugged him along, but he couldn't quite wipe the loving look off of his face, always enchanted by the princess's childlike excitement.

This year, everything is so starkly different. This Christmas morning, Rapunzel hadn't wanted to be with anyone – well, anyone excluding Eugene, but she's still angry with him. She's afraid to tiptoe down to his bedroom, in case he'd really meant what he'd said last night, about them not seeing one another anymore. She'd slept in late, well past nine o'clock, which is entirely unlike her. She'd always been an early riser, but today, the sun just didn't entice her out of bed like it usually does. Really, she just wants to be alone – not under the prying eyes of Charles and the worried looks of her parents, as they wonder why she isn't acting like her usual, happy-go-lucky self.

Rapunzel feels as though she's been slowly losing herself these past four months, becoming a shell of the young woman she'd once been, so carefree and bubbly, always finding the bright spot in any dark situation. Lately, it's been difficult to find a single thing that's going right.

Her parents would question her lack of cheer, and then she would have to pretend that she and Eugene hadn't gotten into an explosive fight last night, the kind that blows up, right in your face. She can't explain away her bad mood, which was brought about by finding another woman on Eugene's bed with him, her fingers inching their way to the buttons on his shirt. Doing so would give away the fact that she's still been _seeing_ Eugene behind everyone's back in the first place. The last thing the stressed princess needs right now is Charles starting a fight with the former thief – or, more likely, Eugene punching Charles in the nose. Again.

But Rapunzel doesn't want to blatantly lie to her parents, and she doesn't want to pretend that she's in a _good_ mood, either. At least for a few hours, the princess wants to comb through her thoughts, and prepare herself to spend the evening with Charles and her parents. She must mentally prepare to put on a happy front, when doing so feels nearly impossible. She would have to do enough pretending tonight at the Christmas evening dinner, and at the inevitable New Year's Eve celebration. She's _been_ doing enough pretending lately, and frankly, she's tired of it. So, for now, Rapunzel will allow herself to drift away from reality, caught in a fairytale that appears preferable to the current climate of her own life.

Enchanted by her book, a story about a young queen who single-handedly saves her kingdom from ruin and despair, Rapunzel doesn't initially notice the hand that suddenly wraps around her upper arm. Not until she's being dragged away, and jostled into a small sitting room. She yelps, her heavy book dropping to her feet in the empty hallway with a loud _THUNK._

The sitting room door shuts, and she's pressed against it firmly, a strong arm positioning itself above her head so she can't escape the room, even if she wants to.

"We need to talk."

"Eugene." She breathes, panting slightly from the surprise of being pulled into the room so suddenly, dragged from the fantasy she'd been enveloped in. "You scared me."

He's standing there, so close to her, and she can tell immediately that he looks sorry about last night. Really, really sorry.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to. I just didn't think you'd talk to me if I asked."

She cocks her head, jutting her chin, recalling the events of the previous night, the nails of the anger she'd felt digging themselves deep into her skin all over again. Rapunzel is determined to give him the cold shoulder today, even if it kills her to do so.

Eugene notices that Pascal is perched there on her shoulder, shooting him an equally irritated look.

_Great, even the frog is mad at me._

"You look tired."

_That's really all she has to say?_ Well, the bags under his eyes _had_ been pretty prominent this morning.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Blondie." Eugene sighs heavily, rubbing his face. "I sort of didn't sleep last night. Like, at all."

"Neither did I." She confesses quietly, looking away.

Because if she doesn't look away, she's going to focus on how handsome he is, and then all that anger she feels towards him will melt away in an instant, and any sense of control she has over the situation will be lost. And she's lost enough control over her own life recently.

In her mission not to look Eugene in the eye, Rapunzel gasps quietly, grabbing for his wrist.

"What did you do to your hand?"

Eugene yanks his arm away, not in the mood to be pitied.

"I might've punched the wall." He states blankly. "After you left."

"Oh… I'm sorry."

_This is all my fault. I must've hurt him so much, what with the things I said to him last night. I was too harsh with him –_

"Don't say sorry, Blondie. None of it was your fault."

There's an unspoken, mutual guilt lingering in the air between them, because they'd never gotten in such an explosive fight before. Sure, they'd argued here and there, but not often, and when they did, their words for one another weren't quite so fueled, or quite so harsh. For this reason, the pair isn't incredibly accustomed to this day-after, make-up thing.

Well, that's not entirely true. _Eugene_ is accustomed to it, as he'd gone through the toxic make-up-break-up cycle with Stalyan plenty of times before. He's just never done it with Rapunzel, and he'd hoped to keep it that way.

"Whose fault is it, then?"

"I'm _guessing_ you think it's mine?" Eugene cringes, praying she isn't hiding a frying pan under her dress, because his skull can't survive _that_ again.

Rapunzel simply sighs, running a frustrated hand through her choppy hair.

"I don't really know what to think right now, Eugene."

"Well… you told me that I was acting like Flynn Rider." Eugene states, sure that his tone showcases how offensive the comment was for him. "Think we should talk about that?"

Eugene knows that she would only have said something so harsh if she was truly hurt. She'd had every _right_ to be hurt, seeing him with Stalyan like that, without any context for the situation, before finding out he'd been _engaged_ before he'd met her. He'd spent the entire night worrying about her, praying he hadn't pushed Rapunzel right into Charles's arms for comfort, in the midst of her anger towards him.

Rapunzel just shrugs, speaking matter-of-factly.

"Because you were. You were acting like him."

"Look, I'm sorry, Sunshine." Rapunzel melts a little at the endearing nickname, but tries her best not to show it. "I _truly_ am. For how I acted, for what you saw. But it wasn't what it looked like, and I didn't mean what I said about thinking we should end things. I didn't mean it at all."

Eugene's brown eyes are pleading, screaming, _'Trust me, please, just trust me. I haven't lied to you before, not even in our first days together, and I'm not going to start now.'_

"I _promise_."

There's that word again: promise. One little word, which holds so much weight between them. ' _When I promise something, I never,_ _ **ever**_ _break that promise.'_

She shouldn't have made him promise to take her to see the lanterns, to give his satchel back in return. She should've said, _'Promise that you won't fall in love with me, so you won't have to experience the agony of watching me marry another man.'_

But Eugene knows he would've broken that promise, anyway.

"But you let her sit on your bed. You let her touch you." Rapunzel looks up at Eugene with a freshly simmering anger in her eyes, a deep-set frown dragging her lips downward. "I thought _I_ was the only girl that could touch you. That's what you told me, a long time ago. Is that not true anymore, because I'm married now?" She asks a bit timidly, clearly afraid of his answer. "Do you want someone else to touch you?"

Eugene sighs deeply and brings a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. He rarely loses his patience with her, but when he does, this is the telltale sign, and she knows it.

"No, no, _no_." He responds firmly, replacing his arm above her head, leaning into the door for support. He's towering over her, and if she wanted to, she could tuck her head right under his chin – a perfect fit.

Not that she wants to.

Eugene continues on, determined to explain himself properly this time, without coming off like a stonecold douchebag.

"Look, I know things looked bad when you walked in, okay? I get that. But her showing up here… that's not what I ever wanted! I don't _want_ her, Blondie, I didn't _want_ her to touch me. I made that clear with her, that _you_ are the only woman I could ever want, but she's not the best listener, alright?" Rapunzel nods, and Eugene thanks the heavens that she's listening intently, giving him a chance to properly explain. "But you have to know, I want _you_ , Rapunzel. And I told you that in the hallway, just before you showed up to my room. That's still true, whether she showed up unexpectedly or not. I want all of you, forever. _Only_ you."

"But… you agreed that we should end things." Rapunzel states, only because she's been turning over this part of the argument again and again in her head all morning.

"Like I said, Rapunzel, I didn't mean it. I was just angry about Stalyan and –"

Her eyebrows push together in annoyed confusion.

"Why would you say something if you don't mean it?"

"Because I was frustrated, alright? I was angry that Stalyan showed up here. Because frankly, I never wanted to see her again! Things have been so…" Eugene shakes his head, struggling for the right words. "Fucked up lately as it is, without her around. But please know, I had _no_ idea she would show up, and I would never want her here. Not when I have you."

"Well, if things are so… so…" Rapunzel had never taken to swearing casually in conversation. She only did so occasionally when they would make particularly passionate love. Eugene winces when his harsh vocabulary, vocabulary completely unfit for a princess, leaves her mouth. He really needs to start being a better influence for her. " _Fucked up_ lately… why are you still here? I'm sure you'd be a lot happier if you left."

"No, Blondie. I wouldn't be happier." _How is he going to dig himself out of this hole with her?_ "I'd be miserable anywhere _without_ you."

"I feel like you're miserable now." Rapunzel's eyes are pointed at the floor as she bares her worst fear to him – the fear that he's going to get fed up enough with their current situation, to leave once and for all.

Eugene sighs, deeply.

"Okay, you want honesty from me? Yes, I _hate_ the situation we're in. And yes, its miserable being forced to watch you be married to another man. And yes, I was miserable last night thinking about how hurt and confused you probably are right now. But I'm not miserable when I'm _with_ you, Rapunzel. I'm actually very far from it. And that's plenty worth it, okay? It's worth this mess that we're in. _You_ are worth everything to me."

"You're worth everything to me, too, Eugene." She states simply. "But I'm still mad at you for lying."

"I didn't _lie_ –"

"Fine, for _hiding_ things. Which is just as bad as lying." The princess points out, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly, her spunky side coming out to play.

Usually, he'd find her spunky side incredibly cute. Just not right now, when its powers are being used against him, to gain the upper hand. Eugene finds himself growing rather frustrated once more. He wills himself not to be frustrated _at_ her, but frustrated with the situation they're in.

She's suspicious and confused, and with good reason. But it's difficult not to grow irritated, because it's not like he'd _asked_ Stalyan to come here to the palace. He just wants Rapunzel to believe in him, in the same way that he still believes in her – the way that he still believes in _them_ , in the small shred of hope that they'll be together someday, despite the many growing reasons not to.

"Rapunzel… I trust that you're not letting Charles, your husband, _fuck_ _you_ every night that you're not with me. That requires a lot of trust! I turned around my entire _life_ to stay here, pushed aside everything I've ever known, to be here with you! I became a _different_ _person_ , a _better_ person, for your sake! And you can't trust me enough to believe that I would never do anything with another woman?"

Rapunzel recoils, pushing her back firmly against the door. That same fire from last night ignites brightly in her eyes once more, at Eugene's mention of Charles.

_Okay, so he's going to dig himself deeper then, instead of dig himself_ _**out** _ _._

"First of all, no one is holding a gun to your head, forcing you to stay here, Eugene. Second of all… I would _never_ do that to you, I would _never_ let him touch me like that. And I really can't believe you just said that." She shakes her head in disbelief, green eyes narrowed fiercely. "When are you going to stop holding it over my head that you had to leave your amazing life of _adventure,_ for a miserable, _boring_ life here in the palace with me?" Her voice is rising now, and Eugene knows she's about to abandon ship, storm away like she had last night, running like water through his hands. "When will I ever stop feeling like such a burden to everyone?"

Eugene immediately backpedals. He hadn't _known_ she feels like a burden. Eugene's face softens at that, never wanting his sweet princess to feel that way, because it's completely untrue. He lifts a hand to gently caress her cheek, but she just pushes it away.

"Rapunzel, I didn't mean it like that. I would _never_ hold that over your head. I'm still here because I want –"

She stares up at him, her jaw clenching and unclenching, before reaching for the door handle behind her.

"I know what you meant."

The princess slips from the door before he has the chance to grab her, slamming it roughly behind her. All Eugene can do is rest his forehead against the closed door, groaning in utter defeat, knowing that if he hadn't fucked things up worse last night, he surely has now.

* * *

Eugene wanders the palace for a while, with no real destination. The halls are positively sullen, as much of the palace staff has the day off, aside from the kitchen. He walks through the gardens for a bit, hoping to clear his head, but without any luck. Once he starts shivering, Eugene returns inside, making his way to his bedroom. He passes Lance in the hall, who's just gotten off of work, suggesting they take a gander to one of the pubs in the village, but Eugene promptly refuses. He doesn't want to spend Christmas in a bar. Even though drowning his sorrows, forgetting how angry Rapunzel is with him, _does_ sound a little enticing right now.

But he decides against it, _just_ in case Rapunzel decides to forgive him, and wanders her way down to his bedroom. She'd already seen him drunk once, and that was enough.

After about a half hour of sitting on the edge of his bed, contemplating the entirety of his life decisions, Eugene perks up at a soft knock on the door. He knows that it could be one of two people: Rapunzel or Stalyan, and he hopes for the first.

Thankfully, it's his princess at the door. She looks so pretty, as usual, standing there in the lowly lit hallway, that he _almost_ forgets they'd ever fought at all.

"Hi, Sunshine. Nice to see you here, at my door, looking completely displeased with me."

"Hey." She responds quietly, ignoring his sorry attempt at a joke, her bare feet padding forward tentatively. Her eyebrows are pushed tightly together, in a slightly amusing fashion.

Eugene leans against the door jam, casually crossing his arms over his chest. He knows he shouldn't smile at her scrunched expression, but she's just so… _cute_ , even when she's angry, and even when that anger is directed at him.

"I thought you were still mad at me."

"I was." Rapunzel pauses, correcting herself. "I am."

Her eyes narrow at him, and he holds his hands up in defense. She may be little, but she _is_ fierce when threatened. Eugene had quickly learned _that_ fact when she'd given him about seven concussions with a frying pan upon meeting him for the first time.

_And people say there's no such thing as love at first sight._

"Hey, I understand why you're pissed. I'm not saying you don't have every right to be."

"Good. Because I am."

"Noted."

Regardless of her displeased tone and expression, the princess pushes past him anyway, into the bedroom, and Eugene takes this as a cue to shut the door behind her. She stands there at the end of the bed, her arms crossed over her chest, as she looks up at him with a fixed, hyper-serious expression.

"Do you love me, Eugene?"

Eugene's face softens, and he steps toward her, taking both of her hands into his.

"What kind of a question is that, Blondie? You know I do, more than anything."

"Good."

"Why do you ask?"

"Because, I'm... _ugh_! I'm losing my mind, Eugene!" She retracts her hands from his, pacing up and down the length of the small room. "I'm feeling things I've never felt before, this deep... _jealousy_ inside of me that I can't stop. I'm not a jealous person, Eugene!" She whirs, facing him again. "What did you do to me?"

Well, at least now she knows the agony _he's_ felt all this time she's been married to Charles, if only a small fraction of it. Eugene stops her pacing, holding her face in his hands. He's trying to hold back an amused chuckle at her exclamation, even though he knows it's not funny. She's pissed off, and worried, because he'd almost gotten married, and hadn't told her about it. And now, his ex-fiancé is here, working in the palace, trying _really_ damn hard (without success) to seduce him.

In hindsight, Eugene knows he should've told her, but he'd honestly thought he'd shaken Stalyan once and for all.

But, per usual, his past continues to haunt him. Honestly, Eugene knows he'd been stupid, a little naïve even, to believe that woman wouldn't slither her way back to him at some point, like she always does.

"Okay, okay. Slow down." Eugene rests gentle hands on each of her shoulders, determined to take a more patient approach this time. He's lucky that Rapunzel's simmered down enough from their conversation earlier, to come down here and talk to him at all, because he knows he doesn't deserve it. "What can _I_ do to help, Sunshine?"

"I don't know!" The typically gentle-tempered princess throws her hands in the air with a defeated groan. "Kiss me, take me away from this palace, do _something_! I don't care what. But I swear, if I have to think about that... that _woman_ touching you one more time —"

But Rapunzel doesn't have to finish her ranting, because he's already kissing her, lifting her off the ground to wrap her legs hastily around his waist. She's taken a bit by surprise, but immediately melts into the kiss, digging a hand into the hair at his neck.

Suddenly, her slightly amusing, and somewhat flattering, showcase of jealousy is something that he can't laugh at, not even a little — suddenly, it's something Eugene realizes he needs to take care of — if not, blunt as it is, fuck right out of her.

He needs to show his princess that there's no one but her, no one else he could ever possibly want.

"Hey." He pulls back from the passionate kiss, holding the base of her skull in a firm hand, so she has to look him in the eyes – eyes that are beginning to darken, and quick. "I'm yours. I'm yours, and I'm only yours, and you don't have to worry about her."

"Do you promise?" She whispers, wrapping her legs tighter around his hips, arms around his neck, drawing herself as close to his lips as she can without kissing them.

It's a silly question, really, because she's married to someone else. But there's been this unspoken conclusion between them since she lost her virginity, in which they still belong to one another, and always will.

Because there's just no use in pretending they could ever belong to anyone else.

"I _promise_. Stay with me, Rapunzel, please. Let me show you that I'm yours, just for tonight."

Rapunzel shakes her head, pressing her forehead to his. Her eyes close, and Eugene's heart breaks a little, at how defeated she looks, how tired he can tell she is.

"It's not just for tonight, Eugene. It never will be. I'll _always_ be yours, forever," She reaches down to finger the buttons on his shirt, beginning to unbutton them. Her eyes open, staring right at him, and his legs start to go weak. "No matter what happens."

"Kiss me." Eugene begs in return, eating up her pretty little words. Eugene delights in the way they reassure his own jealousy, and the deep, daily fear that he's slowly losing her to someone else — to a man who can give her a lot more than he ever could.

But he can give her his love, he can give her all of himself. And that's just going to have to be enough.

Eugene walks to the bed, gently laying her down onto the mattress. She whimpers when the kiss breaks, her neediness for him taking leaps and bounds, growing rapidly by the moment. Reaching down, Rapunzel undoes the front of his pants, pulling them down just enough to provide some momentary relief from their restriction. Eugene remains standing before her, like a steady oak, and she the house of cards, waiting to be blown over by the slightest gust of wind.

He nudges her legs open to stand between them, which she immediately wraps around his waist once more, drawing him down to her level on the bed. She wiggles beneath him impatiently, bunching around her waist the skirt of the thin night dress she's wearing. Strong, steady hands skate their way up both of her bare thighs, making her moan in unbearable anticipation. His lips drag themselves up and down her soft neck, before returning to her mouth, capturing her own lips in a heated kiss.

He blows through her like a tornado, hot and cold chasing one another in violent circles. Thankfully, Rapunzel has grown accustomed to the harsh winds of her desire, knowing he'll always help her rebuild each time the storm blows right through her, knocking the wind out of her.

Eugene reaches between her legs, pulling her underwear slowly, teasingly, down them. His breath hitches when he realizes how wet she already is, her need clear as day. He lowers himself between her thighs, kissing up and down each of them. Her legs clench around his head, and she cries out softly when his tongue escapes his mouth. The tension of her body starts to steadily build, but much to her chagrin, he pulls away from the place he knows she wants him most, gauging her reaction, drinking in the way her body deflates and falls back.

Rapunzel whines in frustration, looking to him with pleading eyes.

"No, please…" She barely breathes the words out, grabbing at his hair, fully intending to guide his mouth back to her center.

He smiles up at her knowingly, nuzzling the inside of her thigh softly with his nose.

"What was that, Princess?"

Before she can respond, though, he slips a finger inside her. Her back arches into both of his hands – the one between her thighs, and the one placed under her, supporting her, wedged between her body and the mattress. The princess pants for air, incapable of forming a coherent thought, her head falling against the bed in defeat, almost unable to look at him.

"You're so… you're just so… and I _want_ …"

"Yeah?" He asks, completely calm, completely in control of the situation.

_God, that smirk of his is going to kill me._

" _Please_ , Eugene, don't tease me. Not tonight." She begs, still panting hard.

_Because staying mad at you for even one day was too hard. I want you now, because I was_ _**supposed** _ _to have you last night, before Stalyan showed up and ruined everything._

"Okay, okay." Eugene grins, pulling his finger slowly from her, eliciting a small moan from deep within her throat. He stands up straight again, taking each of her legs into his hands, wrapping her thighs firmly around his waist. He leans down to tap her nose gently with a finger, making her giggle. "I wouldn't want you to have to go without, Sunshine."

He pushes slowly inside of her, and they groan together, caught in the feeling of their burning need for the other finally being relieved. Eugene retracts himself, sliding out ever so slowly, lingering there, before returning inside of her. He finds the crook of her neck, kissing her there softly, indulging in the quiet little moans falling from her lips and into his ear.

"Eugene… I… I…"

He tightens his grip on her slightly, _almost_ getting off from the simple desperation in her voice alone, cradling her head in his hands.

"What is it, Princess?"

"I need… _God_ , Eugene, I need _more_."

She doesn't have to tell him twice.

It isn't long before lights are exploding behind her eyes, her muscles tightening and relaxing over and over again, the house of cards blown away completely. Soon after, he's tumbling over the edge with her, a few colorful words falling from his mouth. She laughs breathlessly at his dirty language; she can't help it.

Once they've laid there panting for a minute, catching their breath, Eugene suddenly leans over to the bedside table, pulling something from the drawer. Rapunzel sits up beside him, curious. She kisses his bare shoulder and he smiles, sitting upright beside her.

"I got you something. I was planning to give it to you last night, but… well, we both know how _that_ went."

Eugene hands her the ring box, suddenly feeling a little shy, which is completely unlike him, especially around her.

"For me?" Rapunzel asks timidly, surprised by the presentation of a gift.

"For you." Eugene chuckles, knowing how excited she gets about surprises. Nervously biting his lip, he watches as she opens the ring box, her eyes growing wide at the piece of jewelry inside.

He can't tell if she's never seen anything so beautiful, or if she absolutely hates it.

"I know it's not the rock they gave you for marrying Charles." _The wedding band she never wears, with that big diamond ring any typical girl would kill to have._ _Then again, Rapunzel is far from typical._ "But... when I saw it, it just reminded me of you, because it looks so pretty and delicate. I mean, not that you're delicate. You're strong and independent… and… okay, you get it. I just wanted you to have it. I know I probably shouldn't have gotten you something, what with everything going on. But I just figured, you could say it's from Cass, or —"

She immediately slips the ring onto her ring finger, much to Eugene's content, inspecting the pink, intricately painted petals closely, her smile bright as the morning sun.

He never wants to stop basking in her light, even if he has to do so behind closed doors for the rest of his life.

"Oh, Eugene, it's _beautiful_! I like this _so_ much better." Rapunzel leans in, kissing him tenderly, before holding her hand out in front of them to admire the ring further. She turns to him, and he swears tears are welling at the corners of her memorizing green eyes. It all feels a little bittersweet, because they both wish he was giving her a different ring; a wedding ring. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, Blondie."

Eugene pauses for a moment, feeling that weird sense of shyness wash over him again.

"Hey…" _It's okay to be honest about your feelings, Eugene. It's just Rapunzel. You can get anything off your chest with her, and she's not going to judge you for what you have to say, because she loves you._ "So, now that _that's_ out of our systems…" He leans over to gently bite Rapunzel's neck, playfully, making her squeal quietly. "Do you think we could talk about what happened last night?"

He rubs her back softly, hoping she'll say yes. Rapunzel runs a loving hand through his hair in response, as she's secretly been hoping the same thing, wanting to clear the air between them once and for all.

Make-up sex is good, she decides. But sometimes, it's just as good, and just as cathartic, to talk things out.

"Sure."

Eugene takes a deep breath, preparing himself to bare his heart. He's done so with her a hundred times, but sometimes, it's still hard for him to be completely vulnerable, and to be so serious.

Honestly, he'd always been okay with masking his feelings with jokes, sarcasm, and a playboy charm. But he knows that won't cut it with the princess. And besides, he doesn't want that for their relationship, anyway. Especially after last night. After everything had blown up in their faces in an instant, he just wants nothing but honesty between them.

"Rapunzel, I need you to know something, okay? Are you listening?"

"I'm listening, Eugene." Rapunzel responds, slightly amused by his urgency.

"Are you sure?"

" _Euuugeeene_ …"

"Alright, alright. Look, Blondie, I just… you mean the world to me, alright? Losing you…" He mindlessly reaches forward to finger a few lose strands of hair, tucking them behind her ear. "Losing you to Charles… that hurt worse than getting stabbed. And that shit hurt. Like, really bad."

"You didn't really _lose_ me, clearly – " She motions to her still-naked body, wordlessly stating that if he'd lost her completely, she wouldn't be in his bed right now, her legs still a bit shaky, coming down from that familiar high they've frequented so often lately.

"I know, I know. Just… let me finish, please." Eugene sighs, searching for the right words, fingering the sheets to distract himself, so as to not get embarrassed and abandon ship before he gets out what he wants to say to her. "I was an orphan, you know? And when I met Stalyan… _no one_ had ever really loved me before, no one had ever shown me love. I was just… so _young_ when I met her. I didn't know what I wanted, I wasn't… I wasn't _comfortable_ with who I was. Not the way I am with you. Back then, I didn't think I ever would've been okay with being Eugene Fitzherbert again, because no one had ever loved me for _him_. They only loved me for who I was as Flynn Rider. And Stalyan, she… she stroked my ego, she made me feel good about myself. About who I was when I was Flynn. But she never really loved me, for me."

"Hey," Rapunzel softly takes his face into her hands, a look of guilt etched across her face. "What you said last night… you were right. There's no point in rehashing what we can't change. You don't have to explain your past to me –"

"But I want to. I need you to know this. And you deserve the truth from me, Blondie. All of it."

She nods, sensing that something is tugging on him, deep inside, and he continues.

"With her, I think I just… I think I just liked feeling wanted. Someone actually _wanted_ me, for the first time in my life. But here's the thing, Princess…" He leans down to kiss her nose lightly, and she giggles. "I know now that I was never in love with her. I thought I was… a long time ago. I _thought_ I knew what love was. But I only learned what love is, _true_ love, when I met you. My relationship with Stalyan… God, it was _so_ toxic. That girl walked all over me. And I'll be the first to admit, I didn't always treat her so great, either. But with you… I finally feel like I'm being treated in the way that I always deserved, that I always _yearned_ for. And I guess I'm just scared because… well, because with you, I finally have something, something real. Something that gives my life purpose beyond stealing shit, and passing that off as a legacy to be proud of. Something that I never felt with her. Or with anyone, for that matter. Stalyan just fed the bad parts of me. But you… you always believed there was good in me, until I believe it, too."

Eugene pauses, his breath shaky. He wills himself not to tear up, but it's too late, and he's grasping the side of her face in his hand. And his chest starts to hurt just looking at her, because she's so fucking perfect, and he just loves her so much.

"Rapunzel, _you_ are the only person who has made me want to be better. You're the only person I was willing to stop being so damn selfish for, after living that way for so long. I genuinely think that I would be dead right now if it weren't for you. Maybe not literally speaking, but dead inside. You quite literally saved me from myself. And I'm terrified, because for the last four months, it's felt like we're just hanging by this thread that's bound to break. And it's like Charles, and now Stalyan showing up here, are the scissors ready to cut that thread right in half."

"Oh, Eugene…" Rapunzel wraps her arms around Eugene's neck, pulling him close, resting his head to her chest. She places her chin on the top of his head, trying her hardest not to cry, as well. "I'm _so_ sorry. I _hate_ that we're in this mess. I hate that we can't be together, like we were. I wish everything could just go back to the way it was."

Eugene sits up quickly, desperate to comfort her, not intending to shift the blame onto her.

"Hey, no. Don't apologize. This is my fault. Stalyan being here, the fight we got into… it's my fault. I mean, I didn't invite her here. I don't _want_ her to be here, believe me. But I was a dick last night, and earlier today. Because I'm scared. I'm scared to lose you. But my past… I have to face it. I have to face the person that I used to be, the person that I was before I met you. Even if it sucks."

"Eugene… I don't hold it against you, the person you used to be. You know that, right?"

"I do know that, Blondie. That's why I ask myself everyday how I got so lucky to be with someone as sweet as you." He sighs deeply, his slight smile fading once more. "But with Stalyan being here, digging up all these memories… I can't help but think… I can't help but think that you would _hate me_ , if you knew everything I've done. All the mistakes I've made."

His expression is so pained, so guilt-ridden, Rapunzel's heart breaks.

"Eugene, stop. I _love_ you." Rapunzel takes his face in her hands. "More than you will ever know. And yes, you aren't the man that you used to be. But we _all_ make mistakes." She shrugs. "Even me. I didn't trust you last night. I didn't take your word for it, that it wasn't what it looked like with Stalyan. I should have, because you've never given me a reason to _not_ trust you before."

"No, Blondie, you had every right to question me and to be angry in that moment. I just don't want you to feel threatened by her, because there's absolutely _no_ reason to. She is not you, which means she could never mean anything to me again. You got that, Princess?"

"Got it." She states with a mock salute, making him chuckle. He leans down to place a kiss on her forehead, smoothing her hair back.

"Are you tired yet?"

"A little." The sleepy princess admits, snuggling against his chest, realizing now just how heavy her eyelids have grown.

"Why don't you get some beauty rest?" Eugene suggests, kissing her gently on the lips, before reaching down to pull the covers over them. "Not that you need it. You always manage to look beautiful."

They each let out a longwinded yawn, situating themselves under the warm blankets together.

"I'll wake you up before the sun starts to come up."

"Okay." She yawns once more, slinging a leg around his waist, pulling him close. "I love you, Eugene."

"I love _you_ , Blondie. More than anything."

**AN: Aw. I so loved writing that conversation, and allowing Eugene to show his more vulnerable side. I hope you enjoyed the little bit of fluff to end the chapter, and to end the Stalyan drama. Well, that's kind of a lie – the Stalyan drama is** _**far** _ **from over, but at least New Dream won't be fighting** _**one another** _ **in her attempts to stir the pot. Speaking of stirring the pot… we haven't heard from our favorite prince (to hate) in a while, have we? I wonder what** _**he's** _ **been up to…**

**This chapter was kind of hard to write, because my baby princess is having such a hard time. She's really struggling, and feels like no one sees it. I think we've all been there before. But I also really loved writing all the lovey dovey stuff, and getting into Rapunzel's head with how she compares Eugene to Charles.**

**See you in Chapter 13!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Today's featured song is Blood in the Cut by K. Flay. It just... it gives me Stalyan vibes. That's all I can say, and that getting into her head a little for this chapter was really fun. Also, it sort of kills me to refer to Eugene as 'Flynn' while writing from Stalyan's point of view. It's one of my pet peeves when people still refer to him as Flynn Rider, ten years later. Like, HELLO, he's sweet, loyal Eugene Fitzherbert now! Treat him as such! But, for the sake of the story, Stalyan is going to call him Flynn, because I don't think she'll come around to the whole 'Eugene', 'changed man' thing for a while. If ever.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy the new chapter! It's Rated M, for sexual content and references.

**Chapter 13: The Boy I Love's Got Another Girl**

Stalyan slinks down the marble hallway, admiring the many paintings littering each wall. She wonders how much each of them are worth, making a ballpark estimate, using her extensive knowledge of the black market. She's trying to spend some time memorizing the layout of the palace, knowing she's going to be sticking around for a while.

Every good thief knows the layout of any job site like the back of their hand – and she's a _great_ thief.

Eyeing the valuable wall art, Stalyan halts in front of a massive portrait, studying its subjects closely. This particular painting is far bigger than all the others, showcasing none other than the royal family. The king, with his greying beard and stoic expression. The queen, with a soft smile, her hands clasped elegantly against her front. The princess… with a wide grin, looking like the embodiment of human sunshine, her crown like a halo resting upon her choppy hair.

Stalyan shakes her head, willing herself to pull her eyes from the piece, from the _many_ art pieces – paintings which are so vulnerable here in the empty hallway, practically begging to be taken.

_Focus. That's not what you're here for. The money can wait._

Stalyan continues her journey, which has no particular destination. Her mind easily drifts, latching onto other things, more _important_ things. Like Flynn, and his relationship with the princess, which _has_ to be some sort of ploy, some kind of grand scheme. There's simply no way that Flynn could actually fall in love with someone so gullible, so... _unworldly_. He must be hiding something from the both of them, something big. Because there's simply no other plausible explanation for Flynn Rider, of all people, to fall in love with the _princess_.

Not to mention, the princess is _married_ now, to a prince from the Maddoline kingdom. And Stalyan knows that Flynn wouldn't be dumb enough to mess around with a married royal… unless there was a really big payout waiting for him at the end of the tunnel.

Otherwise, the relationship that he's maintaining with the princess just doesn't make sense. Not even a little.

' _Thieves belong with thieves.'_

That's what her father has always said, and Stalyan has never had a reason not to believe him. Flynn Rider and Stalyan. That makes perfect, fated sense. It even _sounds_ cool. Flynn Rider and the princess? Stalyan isn't sure that anything can convince her of the validity of _that_ relationship, because she knows in her heart that she and Flynn are meant to be.

It's also called being in denial. But Stalyan will never admit that, nor has the notion of her delusion even crossed her mind.

The Baron has also said that Flynn Rider is a coldhearted backstabber who can no longer be trusted, and that he'll never understand why his daughter has remained so infatuated with the _'good for nothing traitor'_ after all this time. But that's a small, unimportant nuance to be worked out later. It's never been too hard for Stalyan to bend her father to her will, and getting him to allow Flynn to rejoin their operation is no exception. All she must do is pull out the puppy-dog eyes, and she's home free. So, if she wants Flynn Rider back, though her father might not approve, she knows that he's not going to stand in her way.

Stalyan had thought a million times about what she would do, what she would _say_ , when she saw Flynn for the first time since their wedding day — well, more accurately, since the day they'd _almost_ gotten married, when he'd left her standing there alone at the altar like some sort of lovesick fool.

She knows that she should probably still be angry with him, angry enough to never want to see him again. Most women would be, and she was, for a long time. Stalyan has always prided herself in her capability to hold a mean grudge, and she worries that she's going a bit soft by being here. She knows that it makes her a little pathetic to be here in Corona, chasing after him as though he isn't the one who'd left _her –_ and not just left her, but left her at the _altar_ , of all places.

Flynn Rider is a selfish, unreliable bastard, but Stalyan can't help it — she still wants him. Bad.

He _does_ seem different, Stalyan will admit. Less eager to charm her pants off, more sincere, perhaps more mature. _Softer,_ somehow, and more… put together. Stalyan begins to wonder if the princess really _has_ had that significant of an effect on him, to make him go soft like that _._ But the Baron's daughter has seen Flynn Rider outsmart, and flat-out lie, to the faces of the cleverest crime bosses and get away with it. For this reason, the idea that he's turned it all around doesn't hold much weight, if you were to ask Stalyan. The whole 'I'm a changed man' angle might be working on the princess, but Stalyan is careful not to be so naïve. Though she loves Flynn – or rather, though she _believes_ that she loves him – she knows better than to completely trust him.

He looks better than ever, though. Flynn has always had a naturally sexy, charming demeanor about him, but he's really grown into himself in the last few years. Stalyan had met Flynn, along with Lance (back when he was still going by Arnwaldo), when he'd been a scrappy kid just barely in his teen years, a young man fighting for a place in the world after growing up in an orphanage. Then, he was still a little awkward and unsure of himself – a far cry from the confident, _slightly_ egotistical Flynn Rider persona that he would mold over the years.

But now, he really looks and acts like a _man_. With lack of a better term, he all but looks like a Greek god most of the time, like he'd been crafted by heaven itself, so that every woman who met him would spend the rest of her life in longing. Before the other night, it had been months upon months since Stalyan had last seen Flynn – the longest they'd ever gone without running back to one another. In their time apart, Stalyan had almost forgotten how good looking he is.

Almost, but not quite.

You never completely forget a man like Flynn Rider. And really, Stalyan reasons, that's exactly why she's here in the palace – because she _can't_ forget what they'd once had, the thrill that he'd so often provided her. The inability to let go of him hasn't been for a lack of trying. As weak as it may make her (and Stalyan despises feeling weak), she can't forget him, no matter what she does. She's tried it all: sleeping with other men, immersing herself in her work, declining jobs in Corona for a _year_. But he's infiltrated her mind, entrapping her in a gold, Flynn-shaped cage, and she can't set herself free – especially not with the knowledge that someone else wants him, too. And Stalyan doesn't plan to go down without a fight, because that's just not her style.

Even if she has to fight the princess. _Especially_ if she gets to fight the princess.

Because, yeah, there's plenty of other men out there. Stalyan has had her way with enough of them to know. Her father had attempted to convince her, frequently, saying: _'There are plenty of men who would be so_ _ **lucky**_ _to have you, so lucky that they would never_ _ **dream**_ _of letting you go; Rider just didn't realize what he had.'_ There are so many men, in Corona alone, who would fall at the feet of an intelligent, mysterious, beautiful woman like her, and Stalyan knows it. Men who surely wouldn't ditch her at the altar. But they wouldn't be Flynn, which means they would never be good enough. They would never measure up.

No matter what another man could bring to the table, Flynn would always steal it away.

Regardless, this time apart from him, however long it's been now (it's easy to have a warped sense of time when you're a thief for a living), has been far too long for Stalyan. Typically, one of them would reappear at the other's door after a few weeks of falling off the grid, or the day or two after a particularly explosive argument. This time apart, no matter how long, was never fueled by a high amount of insecurity that the other wouldn't come running back. They would always suspect the reappearance of the other to occur eventually, usually sooner rather than later. There was always an unspoken rule: _'Don't speak of whatever you did, or_ _ **whoever**_ _you did, while we've been apart, so we can fall right back into bed like the whole thing never happened.'_

In all honesty, Stalyan had started to get a little worried when a few months had passed, and she still hadn't heard from Flynn. It was completely unlike him, to disappear without a word – well, to disappear for more than a few weeks at a time. For a while, she'd been absolutely furious at him for the way he'd decided to skip town on their _wedding day_ , of all days; the kind of furious that soaks itself deep in your bones, making its home there. But, with time, she'd gotten over it, convincing herself that he'd gotten cold feet, or that he'd been offered a job opportunity he simply couldn't refuse, and _that_ was why he'd skipped town. Not because he didn't want to marry her – because he loves her, and of _course_ he'd wanted to marry her – so there _must_ be some other explanation as to why he'd left the way he had.

Stalyan had tried to track him down a few times after the wedding – a few more times than she'd like to admit – with no success. But, duty called, and she had to help her father with a few important jobs. She would soon become too preoccupied with the family business to scour the countryside for a man who clearly didn't want to be found.

It had hurt, badly, knowing that Flynn was capable of disappearing on her like that, on such an important day. It was as if the many years they'd spent together didn't mean anything to him, and his unexplained disappearance hadn't done any favors for Stalyan's already deeply imbedded trust issues. But, life goes on, and thanks to Flynn, Stalyan had found a few decent coping mechanisms. Namely: one-night stands with other men, plenty of alcohol, and losing yourself in your work.

All three do wonders for nursing your wounds through a nasty breakup. But, Stalyan had quickly learned, they don't really do the job when it comes to actually _healing_ from the breakup. Hence, her strung out, long-awaited decision to infiltrate the palace and win Flynn back.

Her father, with no lack of trying, hadn't been able to convince Stalyan to let go of Flynn completely. But he _had_ convinced her not to leave their successful thieving operation just to find him – at least, until now. For a while, she'd actually listened to her father's advice, his advice that all but said: _'I will never trust Rider again, and neither should you.'_ Sometime later, Stalyan had caught wind of the news that the lost princess of Corona had finally been found, after _eighteen_ _years_ of searching for her. She'd actually felt _happy_ for the king and queen, after considering how heartbreaking it must have been for them to lose their child in such a selfish, traumatic way.

After all, even thieves have a heart – sometimes.

But _then_ , Stalyan had caught wind of _who_ had found the lost princess. And suddenly, she wasn't so happy for them anymore. And suddenly, she wasn't so eager to heed her father's advice to stay away from Flynn for good.

Stalyan had heard the stories, about how Flynn Rider had found the lost princess. How he'd _selflessly_ rescued the princess from her captor of eighteen years, how he'd _bravely_ sacrificed his life for her – the way he'd escaped prison, the way he'd gone back for her, back to that tower of hers where he'd initially found her. He'd gone back, risked his _life_ , for what Stalyan had assumed would be a pretty penny in reward money from the king and queen.

But Stalyan's ears had especially perked when someone had claimed that Flynn Rider, thief extraordinaire, always the kind of man who keeps himself at arm's length from just about everyone, had _fallen in love_ with the princess. She'd been in a dive bar in the next kingdom over the first time she'd heard _that_ rumor circling, and she'd slammed her mug violently to the table, letting the beer spill to the floor. That had been over a year now, meaning her jealously has had a _lot_ of time to stew; plenty enough time for Stalyan to concoct a well-devised plan to intercept Flynn, and subsequently convince him to return to Vardaros with her.

Vardaros – the kingdom where they had concreted so many memories together – the kingdom where he _belongs_ , doing what he's meant to be doing: stealing valuable shit with her, and making a lot of money for it. Not frocking in a palace with the _freaking_ _princess_. Whatever big scheme he has going on here in Corona, she's going to have to convince him to let it go and leave with her, if he's not willing to let her _in_ on it. Flynn didn't seem too convincible in his bedroom on the night she'd first arrived – at least, not as bendable to her will as he used to be – but Stalyan would change that, breaking him down with time.

All Stalyan _needs_ is a little time, and of course, some sex appeal. Thankfully for her, she has plenty of both. Probably, a lot more of both than the princess has.

When Stalyan had finally _seen_ the princess in person for the first time, after a year of imagining what she would say to her if they ever did meet, well... the jealousy had all but boiled over, right there on the floor of the princess's massive bedroom. Princess Rapunzel was rather unimpressive, if you were to ask Stalyan, but she hadn't expected much different. For this reason, the fact that Flynn had done so much for her, things he'd _never_ done for Stalyan, had only caused that fiery jealousy to grow, the flames licking at her insides painfully.

First of all, the princess is only _nineteen_ , for crying out loud. With Flynn smackdab in the middle of his twenties, it didn't seem to make sense that he would fall for someone so immature, so… _inexperienced_. If Stalyan knows Flynn well, and she does, she knows that he doesn't usually go for the inexperienced types. He likes a woman who knows what she's doing. Who wants to spend all of their time _teaching_ someone everything, having to _guide_ them through every little motion? Where's the fun in that?

Regardless of her age, the princess seems rather ditzy, far too cheery for her own good, and she has the worst trait any person could possibly have: _trust_. When Stalyan had been in her bedroom, posing as the unnamed maid, the princess had been so kind to her, so clearly eager to make a new friend. She's one of those people who sees the best in others, and then tries to _change_ them, Stalyan has gathered. _Gross_.

Stalyan just hopes that the princess hasn't _actually_ changed Flynn too much, that she hasn't dragged him to the point of no return. Because if she has, if the princess really has dug her claws into him like the rumors say, Stalyan isn't quite sure what she's going to do from there.

If Stalyan had _really_ thought this whole thing through, she would've kept her identity a secret to the princess forever, pulling the rug from under the princess's feet without so much as a warning. _That_ would've been funny, to have the princess wake up one day, and realize that Flynn was simply gone. Unfortunately for Stalyan, she honestly hadn't anticipated the princess to show up at Flynn's bedroom on Christmas Eve night, and she hadn't previously known that Flynn was having an affair with the married princess beforehand. Smart as he was, he'd given up that information all on his own. _That_ newfound knowledge had made Stalyan's blood boil, though she tried her very best not to show it.

He'd been so apologetic, so _eager_ to get the princess to listen to him that night, and it had been like music to Stalyan's ears to listen to them argue over her in the hallway. Walking into _Operation Win Flynn Back_ , Stalyan had no idea what Flynn and the princess's relationship would be like, or where they would stand, what with the princess being newly married.

Stalyan had heard the rumors about Flynn and the princess being in love, the rumors that he'd changed his thieving habits for her. But she'd _also_ heard the stories about the princess being married off, and the news had admittedly caused Stalyan's heart to jump with hope – something she didn't allow herself to feel very often. A large part of her had prayed that Flynn and the princess would be on the outs when she arrived in Corona, and that stealing him away would be a cakewalk. But, unlucky as Stalyan was, the princess showing up at his bedroom door had proven that this wasn't completely true, and that Stalyan would definitely have her work cut out for her, if she really wanted to get Flynn back. His reaction to her being here, his reaction to the _princess_ realizing she was here, and that he'd hidden something like an engagement from her, had proven to Stalyan that Flynn would not be an easy man to win over.

It wasn't anything she couldn't handle, but she would have to be intentional about her plan of action.

If Stalyan knows anything about people, it's this: _trust no one_. She'd learned that lesson from two key players in her life: her father, and Flynn. Really, she'd learned a lot from Flynn over the years, like how to pick a lock, and how to fool around with your dad in the room next door, and not get caught. They'd been through so much together, including the melodramatic moments of your teenage years, in which everything appears to be much more significant than it really is, when every emotion feels heightened. Regardless, their youth is shrouded with memories of one another. And that's why, Stalyan has convinced herself, she and Flynn had been perfect for one another back then, and still are now. The princess, what with her pastel wardrobe, her warm personality, and her forthcoming _trust_ in people, couldn't _possibly_ be the right fit for Flynn. She's everything he'd _never_ wanted in a woman. Stalyan would know.

The princess has _everything_ that she could ever want, as far as Stalyan is concerned. The girl has a prince of her own, a prince from a well-off kingdom (a rather good-looking young man; not as good-looking as Flynn, but that's beside the point), a palace, and an entire _kingdom_ which unrightfully adores her. An entire kingdom, which basically falls at the princess's feet, all because she'd been missing for most of her life. She has more money than she could ever know what to do with, and she hadn't worked for a single penny of it. At the very least, Stalyan _works_ for what she has.

Maybe not legally, or honestly. But she works for it, regardless.

_All the things that have been handed right to her, and the princess needs Flynn, too?_ _What a selfish, greedy bitch._

Wandering down the empty palace hall, Stalyan idly wonders if Flynn has taken the princess's virtuous little virginity yet. Stalyan considers how these royal types act about such _normal_ things, as if the young, pure royal heirs were to be _soiled_ forever, if they were to have a little fun outside the restraints of marriage. If the rumors about the nature of their relationship are true, and what with their secret affair being revealed to her, Stalyan assumes that Flynn _has_ taken the princess's virginity. After all, he's been residing in the palace for over a year now. The likelihood of him starting a physical relationship with the princess is incredibly high; if only to get her to trust him, and to further ensure that the heist he _must_ be secretly plotting is successful.

And if Stalyan knows Flynn, there's simply no way he could last over a _year_ without sex.

This thought makes Stalyan's blood burn in her veins. She's not dumb enough to think she's the only woman that Flynn has ever slept with, what with the on-and-off-again nature of their drawn out relationship. She knows that he's fooled around with plenty of people who aren't her, and that fact doesn't bother Stalyan _too_ much – if only because she's done it, too. But something about him sleeping with _the_ _princess_ in particular, is downright revolting.

Mostly because Stalyan just can't wrap her head around the idea that Flynn could actually be attracted to someone so incredibly different, so vastly _opposite_ , from her. The princess is clearly so naïve, that she'd probably fall into bed with anyone, and Flynn's charms _are_ rather convincing. Stalyan would know.

Well, he'd taken her virginity, too. So really, Stalyan's already won that race. This thought comforts the jealousy which is currently raging like a storm through the Baron's daughter, if only a little. Because she has something the princess _never_ will: his youth.

Stalyan has Flynn's first time having sex, his first time tasting alcohol (and his first time getting drunk; same day), his first big time heist. _She'd_ been the one at his side for almost ten years. _She'd_ been there when things had gone just right, when their months of hard work and planning had finally come to fruition. And _she'd_ been there when shit had hit the fan: all the times they'd almost gotten caught on a job, and the few times they actually had. Stalyan had been there for all of it – every pinch he'd found himself in, every problem he'd had to sweet talk his way out of — not a measly year of easy living in a palace. Stalyan has _all_ the rest of him, and she doesn't plan on letting it out of her tightly-wound grasp any time soon.

And what does the princess have? His real name? _Please_. That shit doesn't matter, not in the grand scheme of things. When Stalyan had met Flynn, he'd been desperate to change himself, to be _someone else_. He'd reinvented himself back then; why does he feel the need to do it all over again? He'd yearned to distance himself from the person he'd been as a scared, little orphan. Stalyan had given him that opportunity, the opportunity to _not_ be Eugene Fitzherbert. It doesn't make sense that he would want to be that person again, not in Stalyan's mind. Which is why he _must_ be hiding some big, secret job from her.

Because the Flynn Rider she knows, would've dropped _dead_ before allowing himself to go by Eugene again.

Stalyan, with the help of her well-connected father, had given him the chance to _be_ someone, the chance to really let his thieving career take off. When she'd met him, he'd been participating in petty crimes – nothing too substantial, nothing that would get his name recognized. _She'd_ made Flynn Rider into something; not the princess's boyfriend, not the once-courageous rescuer of the lost princess, now freeloading in the palace. But _Stalyan_ had given him the chance to create a _name_ for himself. A _legacy,_ something he could actually be proud of.

Stalyan had done that for him. Not the princess. All the princess has done is allow his true identity, the person he was _meant_ to be, to wither away. To be swallowed up by the nobility, and the fancy clothes, and the ridiculous notion that life in a palace is more exciting than life as a thief.

What really matters, Stalyan reasons, is being with the person you're _supposed_ to be with, no matter how long it takes to find your way back to one another, no matter the obstacles which find themselves in the way – even if those obstacles have short brown hair, a massive fortune, and weigh ninety pounds soaking wet. And if Stalyan has to dress up as a maid and torment the princess for a little while to get Flynn to fall right back into her open arms, that's exactly what she's going to do.

And she's going to have some fun doing it, because why shouldn't she? After the way Flynn had left her standing at the altar, after the _hell_ he's put her through over the years, the _least_ Stalyan deserves is to mess around with the princess's mind a little. Really, Stalyan considers, doing so might only speed up the process of getting the princess to push Flynn away, so that he can come running right back to her.

Rounding the corner, Stalyan hears a faint giggle, followed by a soft moan. Her ears perk, her hearing acutely aware after years spent in the thieving business. She creeps forward tentatively, following the sound, leading her to a door which has been left slightly ajar.

Peering in, she sees... the princess? Yes, the princess, seated atop a big, oak desk. And standing there, situated between her legs, is... well, definitely _not_ her husband.

It's… Flynn. Feverishly kissing his way up and down the princess's neck, as her head falls back to provide him easier access to her skin. Another quiet moan escapes the princess's mouth, her legs wrapped around Flynn's slender hips. He's dressed in a red, fitted guard uniform, though his belt has already made its way to the floor. He looks good in the uniform, _really_ good, but that's the least of Stalyan's concerns right now.

_What… the…_ _**FUCK** _ _? Aren't they supposed to be angry with one another? Hadn't they gotten into a big fight, just the other night, because of_ _**my** _ _unexpected appearance?_

The princess can't be too upset anymore, what with all the moaning she's doing, what with the way her fingers are eagerly working on the buttons of his uniform. Stalyan had been so pleased with herself for eliciting that fight, too.

But now, his hands are in her hair, and her hands are roaming his body, and there's just no way they could be fighting anymore – unless their unique brand of fighting includes profusely making out.

" _Shhh_... you don't want to get caught now, do you?"

"Uh-uh." The princess says simply, breathlessly.

Overhearing this statement makes not only the princess, but Stalyan shiver, because he'd whispered similar things to _her_ enough times before, statements along the lines of: _'Be quiet, so your dad won't hear us.'_ It's one of those statements that feels so intimate, especially coming from Flynn's mouth. It all but says: _'I don't really_ _ **want**_ _to get caught like this, but the_ _ **chance**_ _of getting caught makes the fooling around a lot darker, a lot sexier, and a lot more fun.'_

It also makes Stalyan completely furious. Because now, he's saying dirty things to the princess, willing her to quiet down so they won't get caught – namely, by a nosy guard, or by the princess's husband himself. When, really, Flynn should be saying it to Stalyan.

The princess pulls him down, dragging him into another heated kiss, which he responds to with an unchecked passion. After what feels like an eternity of torture for Stalyan, Flynn finally pulls away to release a slow chuckle, only to return his lips to the princess's neck, murmuring against it between kisses.

"Then you should probably be a little quieter, Sunshine." He smirks down at her, sure to place a disgustingly sweet kiss to the princess's forehead, his voice gravelly and deepened with desire. "Not that I don't love hearing you moan, because I do."

_**Sunshine**_. _What a stupid, stupid nickname._ Flynn hadn't really _had_ any nicknames for her. He'd always just called her Stalyan.

And sometimes, a bitch. But only when she'd really deserved it.

"But it's _haaaard_ …" The princess whines annoyingly, laughing quietly as he leans back down to lick his way up the column of her throat.

"I know." He responds knowingly, that signature smirk of his still plastered across his face.

_He's proud of himself. He likes knowing that he can get under the princess's skin. Well, I guess that's_ _**something** _ _we have in common. Who cares if the contexts are completely different?_

Stalyan watches Flynn with disgust, in his visible lust, as his experienced hands rip at the ties on the front of the princess's dress, so that her sleeves are falling off her shoulders. He leans down to kiss each shoulder, running his lips up and down her bare arm. The princess reaches between them, unbuttoning his pants hastily, her gentle fingers dipping inside. Flynn's head falls back at the contact, a hand steadying himself on the surface of the desk, the other hand tugging roughly at the princess's choppy hair as she leans her head downward.

He'd been the one to cut it. _He'd_ _cut her hair._ Stalyan had heard that rumor, too. Now, he's pulling at it as she... _great. That's just great._

_So much for winning him back. That's going to_ _be a_ _ **little**_ _harder to do if he's busy getting_ _ **sucked off**_ _by the_ _ **princess**_ _left and right, and not by_ _ **me**_ _._

Well, this little indiscretion probably answers Stalyan's question about the whole virginity thing.

When she'd confronted Flynn about having an affair with the married princess, a small, naïve part of her had hoped that the affair was completely emotional, conducted for the purposes of getting the princess to trust him, to carry out some grand plan. Stalyan had hope that the affair hadn't crossed the point-of-no-return, in which she liked to call: ' _the addictive experience_ of _sex_ _with Flynn Rider_.'

That's an experience you never quite forget. And clearly, Flynn knows it, too. Which is why he's using _all_ of his charms on the princess. And Stalyan can't blame him, not really. She'd used sex to keep a job on track before. But that doesn't mean she's okay with him fucking the princess, because she's not.

Glued to the scene, shaking in her anger, Stalyan watches as Flynn shivers, his posture slumping a bit as he stands before the princess. She's still perched on the desk, her bare feet dangling on either side of him, her head bobbing up and down to the gentle tempo of his guiding hand.

_Hasn't this girl ever heard of_ _**shoes** _ _? Doesn't she know the power of a good black, heeled boot?_

" _God_ , yes, Rapunzel..." Flynn groans, trailing off into some incoherent thought, one of his hands disappeared in her hair, the other groping her breast, clearly itching to get the princess's corset off.

Stalyan recoils at that. He'd never... he'd never really moaned _her_ name when they'd fooled around. It's not that he'd never showed his appreciation for her when they would have sex. But this… this seems… _different_ , somehow. More… _intimate_. His mind seems completely clouded, the tone of his voice overflowing with heavy emotion – something that goes far beyond simple lust.

Almost like he's in love with her. But that's ridiculous.

_Right?_

Stalyan's cheeks burn, for two reasons: 1.) Because she knows she shouldn't be watching such an intimate moment and 2.) Because that intimate moment should be shared with _her_.

She watches the stomach-lurching scene for a while longer. After a few long moments, she can't look anymore, as she's starting to feel positively queasy. In her irritation, in the midst of all that bottled-up jealousy, Stalyan reaches forward, clasping the door handle. She slams the study door shut, before hurrying down the hall, and out of sight around the corner.

_If they're going to be so stupid as to sneak around while she's married,_ Stalyan thinks with a deep-rooted hate in her heart _, they should get a little better at_ _ **sneaking**_ _._

The princess really _has_ made Flynn go soft. Either that, or he's just lost his bravado after being away from Stalyan for so long. He'd been so good at sneaking around before – both for his job, and for sexual reasons which often benefited her. It appears as though he's lost his game. But she'll fix that for him, help him to remember how it's done. Stalyan just needs a little time to remind Flynn of what they'd had, and the way it _far_ surpasses whatever he has with the princess.

Really, they're _lucky_ that _**she'd**_ been the one to come upon them, and not that husband of hers, Stalyan reasons pridefully. She'd done them a _favor_ by letting them know that someone had been watching, and the way that someone could easily be the princess's husband.

She's heard that the prince is the jealous type, too.

_Well, then. Game on, Princess. Game on._

* * *

Later that day, Rapunzel is humming to herself, perched on a chair in front of an easel, painting the vastness of the bright blue sky and her beautiful kingdom. She's sure to include the harbor, and the little boats tied to the docks below. As she paints, Rapunzel lovingly recalls the boat ride that she and Eugene had taken the night she'd seen the lanterns for the first time, and she can't help but smile at the memory. Though that night had ended horribly, that particular moment with Eugene will always be one of the best moments of Rapunzel's life.

The princess is situated on her bedroom balcony, the French doors flung open wide, as it's a beautiful December day. It's a little chilly, but she'd bundled herself in a warm dress and coat; she simply couldn't pass up the sunny afternoon. What with it being Christmas just yesterday, she has the rest of the week off from her lessons, and she'd like to spend her infrequent bout of free time doing something she's always enjoyed, something which brings her peace – and she could use some peace of mind lately. Painting has always been that peaceful thing, and with Eugene working this afternoon, Rapunzel really has nothing better to do. She could track down Cassandra, but the lady-in-waiting has been so busy lately, and she'd rather not bother her best friend into a bout of stressed-out irritation. Besides, as the princess, Rapunzel doesn't get time to herself very often, so she may as well enjoy it while she can. She's not sure where Charles is today, but she hopes he doesn't decide to descend upon their bedroom any time soon.

Anyway, Rapunzel had run into Eugene this morning in the hall after breakfast while he'd been on duty, and the interaction had been enough to hold their desire over until at _least_ later that night. Unfortunately, despite the peaceful nature of her painting, Rapunzel can't help but drown in concerned thoughts, as someone had clearly been watching them this morning. She worries this person will tell Charles about her and Eugene, which would only cause a very _non_ -peaceful situation to erupt.

"Mind if I take your dirty sheets?"

Rapunzel jumps at the voice, having been totally lost in her brushstrokes, and worries, and typical daydreaming about Eugene. She hadn't initially realized that someone had entered the bedroom, or that this someone is none other than Stalyan, standing there on her balcony in a maid's uniform – which is just about the _last_ person Rapunzel would like to see on this otherwise peaceful day.

Or any day, really.

Rapunzel stands from her easel, looking Stalyan over in her maid uniform, as though she's fully intending to play the part with all she's got (because she is). The princess walks easily into the bedroom, and Stalyan follows.

"It depends. Are you _actually_ here to do your job?" Rapunzel crosses her arms over her chest, pausing before the bed, trying her very best to appear threatening – though she's not sure if it's working. Stalyan appears completely unphased most of the time. "Or are you just here to win Eugene back?"

Stalyan chuckles, reaching to the bed to pull one of Charles's pillows out of its case.

"Oh, come now, Princess. _You_ should know that a lady never reveals her true intentions."

"Well, a _real_ lady would know the value of honesty."

"Mmm." Stalyan pauses, smiling slyly, looking Rapunzel up and down in return. "And you seem to know _plenty_ about honesty, don't you?"

_Because Eugene wasn't honest with me about her. That's what she means._

Rapunzel's eyes narrow at the condescending comment, but she doesn't say anything.

Stalyan makes her way around the bed, pulling the sheets out from under the mattress. Taking the load into her arms, she makes her way over to the growingly irritate princess. She stops just before Rapunzel, looking the princess right in the eye with a rather conniving expression.

Looking into the princess's eyes, the Baron's daughter recalls the disturbing scene she'd stumbled upon earlier that morning; the way Flynn's mouth had been all over the princess, her bare skin in his hands, the way he'd been _moaning_ for her. She recalls the way the princess had her mouth wrapped around a particularly… _delicate_ region of Flynn's body. Now, the scene burned deep into her memory, Stalyan can't see anything else when she looks at the princess, though she wishes she could.

And Stalyan absolutely _despises_ the princess for it, the bitter jealousy filling her completely as she studies the young woman standing before her. This young woman who looks so _good_ , so innocent and pure – though it's clearly all a façade, Stalyan had come to learn this morning.

At least Stalyan doesn't try to _hide_ who she really is, the things she's capable of.

"He's really good in bed, huh? You know, Princess… I'd be careful, if I were you. I'm sure you're new to the whole thing, but he can get a little… _rough_ , sometimes. I remember, he used to leave marks _alllllll_ over me when we would fu..." Stalyan smiles coyly, trailing off with a nonchalant wave of her hand. "Ah, what am I going on for? I'm sure you know _exactly_ what I mean."

Rapunzel feels her cheeks burning, a deep blush crawling its way up her neck, giving her away. Because, no, she _doesn't_ know what Stalyan means. Eugene has _never_ left… _marks_ all over her before. When they make love, he's always so loving, so _gentle_ with her.

Is it because sex with her... isn't as enjoyable as it had once been with Stalyan? Is sex with her... _boring_ for him?

The princess realizes that she has no actual frame of reference, no _idea_ what sex is really supposed to be like – aside from the information that Eugene has chosen to share with her – and that information could easily be cherry-picked. Yes, she's read books about anatomy and reproduction from the library, but nothing that really _explains_ the intricate experience of sex for pleasure.

Her mother has only hinted at things before, what she could've expected from her wedding night, but _that_ hadn't happened. And any time Rapunzel had ever brought the subject up, long _before_ the marriage, her mother would turn a deep shade of pink, would appear rather flustered, and would simply say: ' _We'll talk about it when you're a little older._ ' She wouldn't even dream of broaching the subject with her dad, assuming that it would probably end in Eugene having a harsh talking to. From what Rapunzel has gathered, though sex is _amazing_ , it's not something they should particularly be _doing_. Her parents and etiquette instructors had made that clear with her and Eugene plenty of times before.

Rapunzel realizes that she's completely, _blindly_ trusting a singular source to give her the correct information: Eugene.

Suddenly, Rapunzel feels quite small, and silly, and even a little stupid. She looks down to her wringed hands, catching a glimpse of the ring Eugene had given her only last night. What if Eugene is holding back, so as not to scare her, or because he doesn't think she can handle the truth of what sex is meant to be like? What if he thinks she's _too young_ to know the truth, as her mother had suggested before? If he thought she was too young, he wouldn't be doing it with her, would he? Of course not. But what if she's not giving him what he really wants, because she doesn't know how sex should _really_ be?

Stalyan definitely looks beautiful in that maid uniform – not to mention, completely smug about her comment – like _she'd_ once been _very_ capable of giving Eugene everything he ever could've wanted. She has much longer hair than Rapunzel, hair that's probably easier to grab onto, significantly larger breasts, and a consistently sultry look in her eyes. In her time living outside of the tower, Rapunzel has gathered that men seem to like these kinds of things. Stalyan simply looks more... _womanly_ than her, in every possible way. Definitely curvier, fuller, yet still slim. Surely older by two or three years, if not a few more. She looks… experienced.

And Rapunzel has learned that just a few years of experience in the world, can make a big difference, especially where relationships with others are concerned. _She's_ learned so much in only a little over a year of being outside her tower. Which means that Stalyan probably knows a _lot_ , especially about pleasing men.

About pleasing _Eugene_ , in particular. This thought makes Rapunzel want to hurl, because she's still learning his body, and Stalyan probably already knows it like the back of her hand.

_Is that how Eugene wishes I looked? Is that how he wishes I was – sultry, and sexy, and mysterious? That's not who I am! Does he wish I was more forthcoming with my thoughts about sex, like Stalyan? Does he wish I was more knowledgeable about such things? But that's not my fault, right? I grew up in a_ _**tower** _ _, with a woman who lied to me about just about everything. I had no_ _**idea** _ _about sex until I came to the palace! But… what if it_ _**bothers** _ _him that he has to teach me everything? What if it bothers him that I didn't know what to do when we made love for the first time? But I've been learning, haven't I? I'm a good learner, right, a fast learner? Eugene says so. But what if he doesn't really mean it? What if –_

"Oh, I'm sorry, Princess." Stalyan provides a look of mock sympathy, gauging the worried expression on the princess's face, watching with pride as the gears turn rapidly in her mind. "I've probably said too much. I didn't mean to _scare_ you."

Rapunzel scoffs, trying her best to hide her true feelings. Because, yes, Stalyan did scare her, and now she's questioning everything again. But she doesn't want to give Stalyan the satisfaction of knowing that.

"You didn't _scare_ me. But I was a little busy before you came into my room unannounced, so do you think you could leave now?" Rapunzel motions to the pile of dirty sheets in Stalyan's arms, signaling that she should do her job and go.

_You're_ _the princess. You still need to be_ _ **polite**_ _, just like mom and dad taught you. Even if you can't stand her._ _Even if it kills you._ _What does mom always say? 'Kill them with kindness?'_

"Please?"

Stalyan only smirks, knowing that she's successfully gotten under the princess's skin, burrowing deep in her mind, causing her to feel unsure of herself and her relationship with Flynn.

_Phase one of my plan is going_ _**just** _ _the way I'd hoped._

"As you wish... _Your Highness_."

* * *

Later that night, well past midnight, Rapunzel has snuck away from her bedroom, leaving a snoring Charles to his dreams.

She feels a little guilty for doing it, but not enough to stop. The prince can't miss her if he doesn't realize that she's gone, Rapunzel reasons. The young, daring princess knows that she's playing with fire, that there's a great possibility of Charles waking up, realizing she's missing from their bed, and going out to search the palace for her. One of the first places he'd probably check would be Eugene's room, though Rapunzel has tried to convince Charles that she simply often falls asleep in the library. He probably doesn't believe her, but what's a girl to do?

Being away from Eugene every day is so unbearable, that Rapunzel knows she has to take the risk in the middle of the night, if she wants to spend any time with him at all. And if she wants to keep hold of the last shred of happiness she has left. That shred is easily maintained when she's with Eugene, snuggled in his bed, enjoying the warmth of the roaring fire in the fireplace, and his skin against hers.

Besides, the princess couldn't stay away from Eugene if she tried.

They've both been so busy lately, so caught up in other things, like work as a guard and the demanding duties that come with being a princess. So, if they have to lose some sleep, and risk getting caught just to spend some fleetingly intoxicating moments together, that's just fine with the both of them.

Now, they're busy trying to get the other's clothes off.

"I thought you would've been satisfied enough after our little encounter this morning." Rapunzel teases between heated kisses, fumbling with the buckles on his vest.

"I'm never satisfied when it comes to you, Blondie. You should know that by now." Eugene chuckles, though he means it.

Untying the little bows on her corset, Eugene tosses it to the floor with a heavy, satisfying _CLUNK_ , where it joins her dress, which has already been laying there on the hardwood for a while. Her thin slip follows, and she's finally naked, at least on her top half. She sighs, thankful to be free from the restricting corset. His hands immediately return to her soft skin, relieved there's no longer all the layers on her body, layers that he needs to ruffle and swim through just to get to her. Eugene leans down to kiss her breast, his lips like a ghost across her newly bare skin.

His facial hair brushes against her gently, creating goosebumps which run up and down her arms. She can't help but shiver a little, because she'll never fully get used to him, and how good he makes her feel. Rapunzel releases a breathless moan, grinding her hips instinctively against his. The sound and feel of her against him leaves Eugene feeling hot all over, so he rewards her by flicking a tongue against her nipple, engulfing it gently, only once. She cries out, and he moves to the next breast, doing the same.

Eugene considers reminding his princess that they should probably still be quiet. But he's already told her that once today, and after a long day at work, he really just wants to relish in her desire being released at his hand, without putting boundaries up around her. Besides, Rapunzel has had people putting boundaries around her for her entire life. Why should he be the one to do it, too?

Despite how mind-numbingly good it feels to have his mouth upon her bare skin, and despite the thick fog she must wade through to form a relatively put-together sentence, the princess can't help but state her concern aloud, sharing what's been prodding at her mind all day.

"I just… I'm just a little _worried_. I think someone saw us this morning," She moans once more as he continues to tease her nipples with his tongue, dipping her head pathetically against his shoulder, because she can't help it – because the sensation is a little too much for her to handle gracefully, in the best possible way. "When… when the door… _oh_ , God, Eugene, that feels so good…"

He pauses from kissing her body, if only for a moment long enough to smile in the dim firelight, proud of himself for snatching any coherent thought right from her mouth.

"You were saying, Princess?"

Then, he continues on, fondling her breasts gently.

"I was… I'm just saying…" Rapunzel struggles to speak, her words gone completely strangled. "I'm just a little worried about how the door… s-slammed shut this morning in the study, when we were… I mean, what if someone tells –"

Eugene pulls back suddenly, a sympathetic look on his face.

"Well, if someone _was_ standing there, there's nothing we can do about it now, is there? We don't know who it was, and it's not like we can exactly go around asking. We just have to hope, whoever it was, that they won't say anything."

"I guess you're right." Rapunzel sighs, though her worries aren't completely relieved.

Eugene takes either side of her face in his hands, a sure smile on his lips.

"Then why are you worrying about it right now, when we could be doing _much_ more fun things?"

"Well, _maybe_ I just need a good enough distraction from my worries." She retorts back, an easy smile growing on her own face, quickly forgetting her concerns in favor of remembering what it feels like to moan in his hands.

"Oh, say no more, Blondie. My _middle_ _name_ is distraction."

Rapunzel only giggles and pulls him down for another kiss, a kiss that quickly grows even more heated than before. Eugene's adept fingers find their way to her thighs, teasing his way up them. She whimpers a little, wordlessly explaining what she wants from him, causing him to smirk against her neck. But he wants to hear it.

"What would you like, Princess?"

"You. Between my legs. Making me feel good." She breathes out, and Eugene is thankful that she's finding her confidence with him, enough so as to be honest about what she wants.

"Don't I always make you feel good?"

Pulling her underwear down her legs, which she eagerly kicks off, he seamlessly slips a finger inside of her, watching smugly as her head falls back in pure bliss.

" _Y-yes_ …"

"I think I can make _something_ work, then." Eugene grins cheekily, before his eyes grow dark once more. He guides her head back down to his level, making her look him in the eye. "What else?"

Taking a deep breath of courage, Rapunzel decides to be honest about _all_ of the concerned thoughts she's been having today.

"I want you to be rough with me tonight. I want you to leave marks all over me." She demands, panting between words, breathless as he leans down to lick and nip at her neck, though he's _always_ been purposefully careful, _extremely_ careful – sure not to leave so much as a well-hidden hickey on her.

Eugene pulls back again, blinking at his sweet princess, surprised by her forwardness.

_Did she just –_

" _What?_ You know I can't, someone will see them —"

"No, not where anyone can _see_ them, silly. Please, Eugene, I just need —" Rapunzel fumbles with the buttons on his shirt hastily, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

_I_ _need to feel whatever Stalyan felt with you_ , _whatever she was talking about earlier._

Eugene pulls a little further away, so that he can take in her entire face. Confused, he wonders where she'd learned about rough sex, because it definitely wasn't from him. As far as Rapunzel knows, at least from the information _he'd_ provided to her, sex is meant to be nothing more than a gentle, soft experience – with the occasional headboard hitting the wall when things get a little out of hand. He'd never brought up the possibility of being anything _but_ gentle with her in their loving making.

Because that's how he'd _wanted_ it to be for her: gentle, and loving, and soft, because that's what a princess – well, a princess as sweet as _his_ – deserves. Eugene knows that she doesn't deserve to be treated like a whore getting fucked quick and dirty above a bar, mostly because he genuinely loves her. Eugene had planned on _slowly_ working them up to the more intense side of things, maybe – and that was a _big_ maybe.

But he (wrongly, clearly) had assumed that she wouldn't be ready for that step in their sex life. After all, she'd only lost her virginity a little over a month ago now. And Eugene doesn't want to move them too fast, or make her feel like he'd ever cross a boundary before she's ready for it to be crossed, doing something she doesn't want without her consent. If she does want things to get dirtier between them, that would be just fine by him, but he'd assumed they would at least _talk_ about it first, ever so slowly testing the waters of what she's comfortable with, just like they'd done for a year prior. Eugene hadn't expected the conversation to come about so suddenly, smack in the middle of fooling around.

"Rapunzel... where is this coming from?" Eugene looks at her pointedly, his voice gone stern, taking her hands into his, away from the buttons on his shirt. Though Rapunzel is good about being honest with him, she's also good at protecting the feelings of other people. Usually, that's a quality about her that he admires, but right now… "And don't lie."

"Well..." Rapunzel sighs deeply, averting her eyes, suddenly unable to look at him. Eugene notices this, and has a bad feeling that he's not going to like where this conversation is about to go. "Stalyan might've said —"

" _Stalyan_? When on earth did you talk to Stalyan?" He takes hold of Rapunzel's jaw, turning her face so that she has no choice but to look him in the eye. "What did she say to you? And whatever it was, _please_ tell me that you took it with a grain of salt?" Eugene demands, unable to keep the concerned, irritated look off his face.

The princess sighs deeply, a slight irritation crossing her own face.

"She was in my bedroom earlier today, collecting the bedding to be washed. I think she was just trying to upset me, but she said..." Rapunzel looks away again, suddenly feeling incredibly silly for bringing it up at all. "She said that you used to leave _marks_ all over her when... when you would make love to her." She finishes timidly, looking back to Eugene, visibly nervous to receive his response.

He doesn't seem angry, at least not _at_ _Rapunzel_ , much to her relief. But he does groan, loudly, letting his face fall into his hands.

_This can't be happening to me. Not only is the love of my life married to another man, but Stalyan is here, holding blackmail over my head so that I can't make her_ _**leave** _ _. And not only_ _**that** _ _, but she's filling Rapunzel's brain with garage about my past sex life now, too?_

"Oh, you've got to be _fucking_ kidding me. I'm gonna find her, and I'm gonna —"

"Hey, its okay, Eugene. Really." Rapunzel rushes to change the subject, clearly embarrassed, her cheeks gone a bright pink color, though she shouldn't be the one feeling that way. "Let's just forget I even said anything at all. We can go back to what we were doing, and –"

She moves to guide Eugene's face back to hers, intending to pick up where they'd left off only a few minutes before. But he gently pulls away, snatching her hands back into his when she pouts at the rejection.

"No, Blondie, I think it would be a good idea if we talked about this. I've actually _wanted_ to have this conversation with you." He squeezes her hands in his lap, cringing slightly. "I just… I'm a little upset that it's happening because of _Stalyan_."

"Well… it's not _just_ because of her." Rapunzel admits, leaning in to rub his chest lovingly, as though _she's_ not the one that should be getting comforted right now. "I've actually been wondering about it for a long time now, but was too afraid to ask. I've seen little bruises on some of the other maids before, on their necks and sometimes around their wrists, too, like..." The princess scrunches her nose cutely, searching for the appropriate words. "Like _fingerprints_. But when I ask what they're from... everyone just giggles at me, like they know something I don't."

_God, in some ways,_ Eugene thinks to himself, _she's still so_ _ **innocent**_.

He likes that about her. But sometimes, like right now, it makes him feel a little sad for her, to know she'd been so sheltered for most of her life. He hates the way that her face falls as she states her confusion aloud, and Eugene isn't sure whether it's a chuckle that he's holding back, bubbling from deep within his throat, or the tears of second-hand-embarrassment. She's always been so smart, such a naturally clever girl, much smarter than him. So smart, in fact, that he often forgets: there's _a lot_ about the world that Rapunzel still doesn't know. A lot of things that she probably _shouldn't_ know, what with all of the stuffy, royal rules that she's expected to follow. Whether she actually _follows_ these rules or not (she usually doesn't), she still looks to _him_ for guidance, and Eugene realizes that he's failed her on this one.

Sometimes, Eugene forgets that he's really the only frame of reference she has – at least, in the world of sex and romantic relationships. She doesn't _know_ anything other than him, and the information that she trusts him to provide. Eugene would like to keep it that way, which means he needs to take this conversation very seriously. Although they aren't on a quest to see the lanterns anymore, he's very much so still Rapunzel's guide in all of this, and she's trusting him not to totally screw it up for her.

He has to guide her through everything, really. It's always been that way, since they first arrived at the palace. Every kiss, every escalated make out session, and everything in between. It's not like she wasn't often the one to _initiate_ their physical intimacy. After all, she'd pulled them into their first kiss, in the tower. But he was often the one who held the reigns, the one to bring them through to the other side, and they were both okay with that. Not because she isn't capable of learning things on her own, because she is. But because they both loved the fact that _he_ was her teacher, relished in it. It's a large part of what had made their relationship so tightknit – in their first year in the palace, she'd had to learn how to trust him completely, and she did. Having to spend a little extra time and energy to guide her through such things, really isn't something that has ever bothered Eugene. This duty of being her teacher, both in day-to-day life and in the bedroom, is a role that he's rather proud to have.

Especially when it comes to this kind of thing.

_Whatever_ it is that he's feeling, whether it be slight amusement or unadmittable pity for her, Eugene swallows it down, nodding supportively as Rapunzel explains her confusion. It's not _her_ fault that she doesn't know any of this, and he would never want to make her feel like it is. It's that old witch's fault, for keeping the princess locked away for so long. Eugene silently thanks himself for chopping Rapunzel's hair, so that the bitch is dead, and can't hide everything about the outside world from her anymore.

_But aren't you kind of doing the same thing, keeping her in the dark about these things? Well... yeah, but that's only to_ _**protect** _ _her… oh,_ _**shit** _ _–_

"It's always made me think that those bruises are something that I should _want_. But Cass just tells me not to let you hurt me like that, because it's naughty."

_Oh, Cassandra, always the perpetual cockblocker_. Eugene can't help but smile a little at that. _At least she's a good friend, always looking out for our princess. Even if it usually makes_ _ **my**_ _life harder._

"And I just thought... well, when _Stalyan_ said it... she made it seem like such a great thing, like it's something I'm supposed to be _jealous_ of. Like those bruises I've seen on some of the maids, are meant to feel good. Then, I got to thinking about how you've never left marks on _me_ like that before. And I thought that maybe it's just because you must be _bored_ when we —"

"Oh, God, sweetheart, _no_. No, no, no. Listen to me, okay?" Eugene takes Rapunzel by the face, and the wide, concerned look in her eyes causes his heart to ache a little.

_How can I explain this to her, as_ _**delicately** _ _as possible?_

"With Stalyan, that wasn't... that wasn't making love. Not even close. That was... that was just mindless sex, okay? It didn't mean to me with her what it means with you, which means you have _no_ reason to be jealous, about _anything_ she says to you. I was reckless then, I didn't care about hurting her. I _do_ care about hurting you, especially because sex is a pretty new thing for you, and it should be taken slowly. Not to mention, you're _kind of_ the princess." He reaches over to tickle her side, and she ducks away, giggling. "And leaving hickeys and marks all over the princess, is a _really_ good way to showcase our bad behavior to everyone who catches sight of you. Not to mention, it's a good way to get me kicked out of this place." Eugene sighs, suddenly feeling a bit guilty for not explaining everything to her a long time ago, like he should have. " _That's_ why I've never given you any… marks before. Because it's not... it's not 'socially acceptable' or whatever, that we're fooling around outside of marriage. That's the _only_ reason why. Not because sex was better with her. Because trust me, Blondie, it wasn't. You're the best I've ever had, you got that?"

"Oh. Okay. I think I understand." Rapunzel says simply, and he can see the gears working in her head, turning rapidly to understand.

"And if you _truly_ want to try new things in bed, I'm _more_ than happy to oblige, Princess. You can ask me for anything, okay? Never be embarrassed. Alright?"

She nods, hanging on to his every word, thankful that Eugene always wants her to feel safe with him. Though Rapunzel doesn't appreciate Stalyan's comments, the way she'd talked so intimately about Eugene and their past together, and the way it made her feel so incompetent, Rapunzel can't help being memorized whenever he teaches her about such naughty things. It always feel so exciting, like he's letting her in on a little secret, one only meant for the two of them to know.

"But I _don't_ want you asking for something from me, just because Stalyan said I used to do it with her. The things I did with her... they don't even _compare_ to the things I do and feel when I'm with you. I was a lost... _lost_ man when I was with her. Okay?" Eugene cringes again, part of him wishing they didn't have to have this conversation at all. "I hate that she's here. I'm so sorry she said that to you, or that she made you think I could ever be _bored_ with you." He chuckles a little, because the notion is so ridiculous, and because he's hoping to lighten her worried expression. "That's quite literally impossible."

Her concerns relieved, if only a little, Rapunzel crosses her arms with a huff, her expression shifting from jealousy to frustration.

"Why can't we just get her fired somehow? I _am_ the princess, after all —"

Eugene sighs, rubbing a hand across his tired face.

"As much as I would love that, we can't do much about her being here."

"Why not? There has to be _something_ we can do."

"Because she _knows_ , Rapunzel. She knows about you and me. She knows what we're doing behind Charles's back, behind everyone's back. She backed me into a corner, the night she showed up here, and all but got a confession out of me. And I know Stalyan. Stalyan doesn't mess around. If she says she'll sell you out, she will, and she'll do it completely guilt free."

Rapunzel nods slowly, the gears in her mind continuing to rotate.

"So, what you're saying is... we're stuck with her here for as long as she wants to stay, unless we want everyone to find out about us?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Rapunzel rolls her eyes, falling against Eugene's chest with a deep sigh of her own.

"I _really_ don't like that woman, Eugene."

Eugene, despite feeling guilty about it for a little while, had always known there was a very good reason he'd ditched Stalyan at the altar – or rather, a long _list_ of reasons, and this is one of them. When he considers the way his life _could've_ been with the Baron's daughter, he can't help but shudder.

He'd also known there was a very good reason he'd been so relieved to fall in love with someone like Rapunzel, who is so starkly different from Stalyan. Mostly because Rapunzel isn't a blackmailing, manipulative woman, who yanks you around like a puppet on a string until she gets what she wants from you.

_Well, except for that one time with the lanterns and my satchel. But that worked out for the best, and she hasn't blackmailed me since._

"Join the club, Blondie." Eugene mutters, running a hand through her short hair. "Join the club."

**AN: I hope you enjoyed the chapter! This was a fun one to write. I really wanted to set the tone for how Stalyan is going to treat and feel about Rapunzel, and how her presence is going to affect New Dream. She** _**really** _ **doesn't understand how Eugene could love someone so different from her, so she's convinced herself that he's staying in the palace, only** _**pretending** _ **to love Rapunzel, all because he's plotting some grand scheme to steal something from the royal family. Boy, is she going to be in for a rude awakening when she realizes that Eugene truly loves the princess.**

**I hope to see you in Chapter 14. As always, thank you so much for reading! I appreciate you being here more than you know.**


	14. Backstory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello, 'Killing Me Slowly' readers. I'm here today to share something with you: a song that I wrote about our favorite prince (to hate). I'm a big writer of songs and poetry – it's my favorite thing to do, really. I wrote this song this summer, long before I started drafting this story. But I did pull inspiration from Tangled, which is obvious, in how I describe the 'other man' in which the princess runs away with. This 'Charles' character that I created for the song, inevitably blossomed into the Charles you see here in this story. I get easily caught up in my dreamscapes and imagination, and this song was born from that. It's not my best work, by any means, but I love that this story ultimately came from it. I have some other New Dream poetry that I'm really proud of over on Fanfiction.Net, titled 'Pretty New Dream Prose,' if you're interested in more works like this! 
> 
> Does anyone care about my poetry? I'm not really sure. Most likely, no. But I've always been someone who enjoys behind the scenes content from my favorite authors and artists, so here you go. This song is really meant to explain the backstory of Charles a little, and to showcase how this character, and this story as a whole, came to be. In an alternate universe, Eugene and Rapunzel would've run away together before the marriage, as suggested in the song. Maybe that's a story I'll write someday. Maybe not. Regardless, I hope you enjoy. Chapter 14 should be up in the next few days, and I hope to see you then!

**Charles**

She left the palace at eighteen

There was nothing left for her there, or so it seemed

The most talked about scandal of its time

When she ran through the courtyard

Past all the armed guards

And left the doors open wide

Prince Charles docked at the harbor at two o'clock

He rode in on a ship called _The Victoria_

Two weeks he had traveled for his bride-to-be

Only to arrive and to his surprise

Find out that she had gone missing

* * *

**Pre-chorus**

She took up her quill before he arrived

So there'd be a letter there for him to find

* * *

**/chorus/**

Dear Charles,

I probably won't word this right

I was never meant for high society life

Please don't try to find me, this is what I have to do

Dear Charles,

I just can't marry you

* * *

Charles demanded that they scour the palace grounds

Maybe she'd gone off alone,

Taken a stroll through the town

He had never been left by a woman before

They always called out his name and begged him to stay

As he shattered their hearts to the floor

* * *

There were whispers in the court all summer

They said that she fell in love with another

He didn't have maids or really any money

He didn't have anything to prove to anybody

And when Charles caught wind of the news

He stalked to the kitchen for a bottle of booze

* * *

**Pre-chorus**

He reached for the top shelf

In hopes that his ego could be nursed back to health

* * *

**/chorus/**

* * *

**Bridge**

They called him a lowlife, the damaged and broke kind

How could she run off with somebody like him?

And Poor Charles, stared out the window

Hoping she'd come back

As he filled that glass to the brim

He should have seen it coming

She was always running

Off somewhere in her head

So, Charles spent all of his time

Rereading the signs

And the letter she wrote to him

* * *

**/chorus 2/**

Dear Charles,

I liked you, you were alright

You just couldn't be the fated love of my life

Please don't try to find me, this is what I want to do

Dear Charles,

I just can't marry you

* * *

And she thinks to herself,

'What would he do, if he found us out?'

Let's run away, there's no turning back now

I pray that he can't find our footstep sound


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Today's featured song is Thin White Lies by 5 Seconds of Summer. This song has been on repeat lately, and it kind of exemplifies how I assume Charles would feel in his situation – married to, and falling in love with, a woman who clearly doesn't want him back – a woman who disappears in the night far too often for comfort.
> 
> I forgot to mention in the last chapter, in case anyone is curious, that I've always pictured Charles as a young Joe Alwyn. I personally like when I can put a face to the characters I'm reading about, so I just thought I would mention it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new chapter! I really liked writing this one.

**Chapter 14: I Don't Feel Your Love, but I Don't Ask Too Many Questions**

Eugene paces before the door, rapping his knuckles against the wood once more – as the first time he'd done so, he'd received no answer.

He's feeling positively pissed off this morning. Like, the kind of pissed off that consumes your whole body, and makes it hard to think about anything else. He hadn't wanted Rapunzel to know that last night – last night, when he'd had to explain to her _why sex with Stalyan wasn't as good as sex with her,_ all because Stalyan decided that she has the right to plant such ideas in the princess's sweet little head.

Eugene hadn't wanted to scare her, hadn't wanted to explain the whole thing in any way other than _delicately_. He hadn't wanted to make Rapunzel feel like the situation was her fault, because it wasn't. So, he'd bottled up his growing anger the best that he could, at least until the morning.

Despite his best efforts, Eugene can't completely swallow the irritation which is bubbling its way up his chest, threatening to burst out of his throat. Earlier this morning, just before she'd snuck off to return to her own bedroom, Rapunzel had pointed out that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to face the issue with such a direct approach. And even though he'd wanted to, Eugene hadn't heeded her wise advice.

Instead, he'd stalked his way right to the maid's quarters, which is located in the wing adjacent to the guard's quarters. This close proximity, which is too close for comfort in Eugene's opinion, makes his stomach twist a bit, tangling itself in uneasy knots. Regardless, he's ready to give a stern talking to the person whose fault it _is_ – the reason he'd had to have such a hard conversation with Rapunzel the previous night.

In hindsight, it was kind of a blessing in disguise that Rapunzel had brought up the issue of experimentation in their sex life, the issue of Eugene being terrified to hurt or scare her. He'd been a little bit _relieved_ that they'd had this conversation, in which they'd painted a clearer picture of what she wanted from him, what her desires might include moving forward. In all honesty, Eugene had been wanting to have such a conversation with his princess, but just hadn't been sure how to broach the subject. Though he's incredibly upset with her, Stalyan _had_ done him a bit of a favor, though he would never admit such a thing aloud. If Stalyan was good for anything, she was good at forcing you to take issues head on. She's also good for being a heavy ass sleeper.

Eugene knocks on the bedroom door. Then knocks again, growing increasingly impatient. With a steady stream of knocks coming from one hand, he absently inspects his fingernails on the other, sighing deeply. He could turn around, return to his own room, and come back later. But he knows that later he's going to have even less patience than he does now, so he may as well get this over with while he has the nerve.

"Just one moment!" A muffled voice answers from the other side of the door. Some banging around proceeds, followed by loud footsteps.

It's a voice which Eugene has heard a thousand times before. There's a certain familiarity to it – not the comforting kind, but the kind of familiarity that reminds you of every mistake you've ever made before. The kind of familiarity that forces you to remember all of the horrible things that you've ever done. He would recognize that voice anywhere, and if he could, Eugene would run far away from it. It's a voice that, although Eugene would never admit it aloud, had once made the wings of the butterflies in his stomach flutter, if only because it was the voice that awakened those butterflies in the first place.

But if this voice had once caused butterflies, then Rapunzel's voice causes a forest fire. Butterflies can easily be turned to dust. But a forest fire rages on, deep into the night, too stubborn to burn out.

The door finally swings open, revealing a groggy Stalyan, whose face immediately brightens when she realizes that it's him, standing here before her bedroom. She leans her head curiously around the door, looking him up and down, a sultry smile immediately tugging at her lips.

"Mm, breakfast is here. I didn't realize that I ordered a charming, sexy man."

_It's too early for this, it's too early for this, you're doing this for Rapunzel –_

"Get out here. Now. We need to talk."

With a subtle smirk, Stalyan shields her body behind the door, only revealing the coy expression on her face, with the clear intention of hoping his imagination will wander into dirty, obscene places.

It won't.

"Well, I'm not dressed _appropriately_ , I –"

"Okay, so get dressed, and get out here."

Stalyan gives him a weird look, but to Eugene's surprise, she actually listens. He'll have to mark that on the calendar.

The door swings open again a few moments later, Stalyan now dressed in a simple black shirt and pants.

"Someone's feisty this morning." She notes, looking him up and down once more.

Eugene crosses his arms, trying his best to appear threatening. He knows that it's hard to intimidate Stalyan, but it never hurts to try.

"Yeah. That tends to happen when people, _malicious_ _people_ , purposefully make the woman that I love," Eugene looks around, lowering his voice, just in case someone is listening – which is always a possibility in a palace full of nosy people. Some of these people, being those who would love to see him get kicked out. _"Worried_ that she's not… _**pleasing**_ _me."_

Stalyan registers what he means, waving her hand dismissively with an enthused scoff.

"Oh, please. Are you talking about the sex thing, the thing that I said to her about us? I should've known she would be a snitch." Stalyan rolls her eyes with a sigh, cocking her head at him when Eugene shoots her an annoyed look. "Come on, I was just playing with her a little. Well, sort of. It _was_ kind of fun to see the precious princess get all flustered at the mention of our… _sexual_ history."

Eugene can only glare at her – glare at her knowing, prideful smile. Mostly because he likes seeing Rapunzel flustered, too. Just for very different reasons than Stalyan does.

Stalyan reaches out to slap him on the shoulder, and Eugene flinches away.

"Lighten up, Flynn! Are you worried that the princess can't handle a little healthy competition?" Stalyan pauses for a moment, raising her eyebrows. "Wait a minute… is the princess _not_ pleasing you?" She leans forward, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "Do you not get off with her? Oh, you poor thing. If that's the case, I could help you with –"

Eugene takes a moment, a long moment, to lean his forehead against the wall, taking a deep breath through the nose. He thinks of Rapunzel, and the way that everything he does, is for her. He considers the way life would probably be a lot simpler, (not to mention, drama-free), if he just left this place already. Said _'hasta la vista'_ to palace life. But then, his life would be simple and _meaningless_ , because it would be a life without Rapunzel.

Stalyan looks at the former thief questioningly as he keeps his head pressed to the wall, taking deep, calming breaths. Mostly because the Flynn _she_ knew always had a snarky comment at the ready, no matter the situation. The Flynn _she_ knew didn't take deep breaths before answering, didn't pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

" _This. Is not. A competition_!" Eugene takes a final, deep breath, willing himself not to raise his voice at the Baron's daughter. "There is no _competition_ between you and Rapunzel. This isn't a _game_ to me. Okay? I love her, and I don't love you. And I really don't know how many times I have to say that before you understand, but I will until I'm blue in the face, if I have to." He shoots her a pointed, especially irate look. "And yes, _I get off_ with her, Stalyan. A lot, actually!"

Stalyan just stares at him, crossing her arms nonchalantly.

"Ouch. It's a little early in the day to be so harsh, don't you think?" Stalyan shakes her head, a sympathetic look on her face. "You must have something _really_ big planned here, to put yourself through all this shit. Your acting skills have really improved since I first met you, though."

"Oh my…" The former thief runs both hands up and down his face, finding himself at a loss for words. "Okay, Stalyan. I want you to listen to me." Stalyan looks up at him intently, and Eugene tries his damn hardest to speak slowly, praying that she'll listen, and take what he says seriously for once. "I am not here _to_ _steal anything_. I'm here, because _I love Rapunzel_. When are you going to get that?"

"You've always been a really good liar." Stalyan simply reasons with a shrug, clearly not budging on the whole, _'You must be here to steal something from the palace, because how could you possibly,_ _ **actually**_ _love the princess'_ thing.

Slapping a frustrated hand to his forehead, Eugene lets the hand run down the side of his face, because Stalyan was right – it's _way_ too early for this.

"Just – just _stay away_ from Rapunzel, alright? Don't come here and feed her with garbage!"

"Is it really garbage if it's true?" Stalyan raises a suggestive eyebrow.

Okay, so maybe what Stalyan had said to Rapunzel yesterday is _partly_ true. It's true that things had gotten a little out of hand with the Baron's daughter in the past – for reasons that were good, and for reasons that were very bad. It's true that they'd had some pretty wild sex back in the day. Eugene can't deny that. But it all seems so meaningless now, so obscure, compared to how Rapunzel makes him feel, compared to their love making – compared to the way she would _still_ make him feel, even if sex was taken out of the picture completely.

He can't say the same about Stalyan. Sex, and the feelings of validation and _wanting_ that come with it, had been one of the only things that had made Eugene stay with Stalyan and the Baron, taking their abuse, for as long as he had. The same can't be said for Rapunzel: Eugene would stay with her forever, even if he'd never get to touch her again. He would stay, even if their love was diminished to longing looks and unspoken _'I love you's',_ translated through the most heartbreaking of fleeting glances. He would've done it, gone forever without touching her again, if he had to. Just looking at Rapunzel is enough.

And now that he's thinking about it, Eugene has spent this entire conversation comparing Stalyan to Rapunzel – like how Stalyan's eyes aren't that dizzying shade of green, and how she doesn't have little freckles that litter the bridge of her nose, and how she doesn't radiate this undeniable _warmth_ whenever he's near her – a warmth that makes him feel fuzzy all over, and a little bit like he's taking crazy pills, but never wanting to stop.

"Well?" Stalyan prods, wanting an answer, knowing full well that she has a point.

"Ugh!" Eugene throws his hands up, turning to stalk back down the hallway. He really should've known that it would be impossible to get anywhere constructive with this difficult woman.

"You know…" But Stalyan's voice stops him, as she leans against the doorframe, looking him over with the slightest bit of suspicion in her eyes. "I'm a little surprised that you'd go by _Eugene_ again, even for a job. That name, gosh… it's everything you never wanted to be."

_She's fishing – she's fishing for something, just like she always does. She wants to get under your skin, burrowing there. She wants to make you question everything you're doing, make you question why you're still living in the palace, why you're staying here for Rapunzel, even though she's married now –_

"Maybe…" Eugene raises his hands in the air, defeated, letting them fall to his sides with a loud _SLAP_. "Maybe I changed my mind, actually wanted to be a better person. People do that, you know. When they find the right person to make them want to change."

Stalyan pushes herself from the doorframe, slinking to where he now stands, a bit down the hall.

"Well, I don't think people _really_ change. I think I liked Flynn Rider a lot better. He was fun." She grabs at his collar, looking up at him with hooded eyes, as if to say, _'We're standing right outside my bedroom, and you're_ _ **not**_ _going to take advantage of that?'_

"Maybe my life isn't just about having _fun_ anymore."

"I think we could change that." Stalyan pauses, her fingers like a ghost at the nape of his neck, sinking into his hair. "What do you think?"

Eugene peels her fingers away, turning to make his way back to his own room, before Stalyan tries to sink her claws into him any further – until they're too deep to dislodge.

"I think I don't give a crap what you think. Just stay away from her."

He leaves the Baron's daughter standing there, her hand still hanging in the air, from the place it had been at his neck.

Stalyan is right, and the fact that she's right, shakes Eugene up a bit inside as he makes the short journey back to his own bedroom. There _was_ a time when he'd been so embarrassed of his real name, his real identity – embarrassed of the lost, unloved orphan he'd once been. The identity he'd worked so hard to separate himself from, only to throw away those many years of hard work that he'd spent establishing himself as Flynn Rider, for a girl. That's something Eugene had thought that he would _never_ do, for anyone, let alone for the princess – the princess he'd _stolen the crown of_.

Part of Eugene understands, why Stalyan just _can't_ understand. _He_ never thought he would have been capable of changing for someone like Rapunzel, someone he could never really deserve.

But Rapunzel didn't really give him much of a choice, anyway. After all, she'd started calling him Eugene the moment he'd admitted it was his real name. Unintentionally, she'd made him want to be _better_ , since the day he'd met her. From the moment they'd been sitting by the fire on their first night together, when he'd told her the story of Flynnigan Rider and the orphanage, when she'd asked if Flynnigan had been a thief, too. In that moment, for the first time in a long time, Eugene had been forced to question the direction of his life. For a split second, before he'd admitted, _'Well… no,'_ – that, no, Flynnigan _hadn't_ been a thief, Stalyan had entered his mind. Stalyan, and the Baron, and the person that Eugene had been up until that point of meeting Rapunzel, all the horrible things he'd done. And for the first time, he was _embarrassed_ about the direction of his life, because she was the one asking.

For the first time, he'd questioned if the direction his life had taken, was what poor orphan Eugene really would have wanted. Had he really wanted enormous piles of money? Had he really wanted to be alone on an island of his own? No, not really. He'd just wanted someone to love him, for who he really was. And it had seemed like, maybe, this strange girl with long, magical hair, could be that someone.

Turns out, she was.

Honestly, he'd never really _minded_ when it was Rapunzel calling him by his birth name. Eugene actually likes his real name a lot more, now – now that it's frequently falling from Rapunzel's lips in little, panted moans, when she's giggling it, when she's saying it with that loving, endearing look in her eye.

Because he actually likes being Eugene, when it's her that he's doing it for.

* * *

Charles has been trying to find a way to get Rapunzel alone all week — with little success. He simply wants to spend some time with his wife, but he's unsure about how to approach this task.

A task which, in theory, _should_ be incredibly simple. All he wants is to actually _talk_ to her, to hold a conversation that lasts longer than five minutes, and isn't about the weather or taxes. Why is that so much to ask? Charles yearns to _know_ the princess, to learn what's deep inside, under all of the heavy ball gowns and the crown. He wants to know everything about her – even the small, insignificant things that shouldn't matter at all, but would matter to him.

So what if the princess is a little strange and easily excitable, if she occasionally lacks common table manners, or if she carries around a little amphibian on her shoulder? Everyone is a little strange, in their own way, and he likes that about her. He likes that she's vastly different than all of the noble, young women that he'd known before her. Princess Rapunzel is endearing, and sweet, and Charles wants to know everything about her. And really, what's so wrong about that? Doesn't that make him a good husband, to yearn to be so attentive, to yearn to know her like the back of his hand?

Nothing, the prince of Maddoline reasons. There is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with wanting to intimately know your own wife. From the moment he'd been shoved into the marriage by his own parents, he hadn't expected an epic love story, per say. But he _had_ expected at least _some_ sort of an effort in building a relationship with the princess of Corona, before he'd realized that her ex-flame would still be lingering around for the entirety of their fledgling marriage. Well, there is an effort being made, but this effort has remained completely one-sided, and Charles has been feeling himself growing more frustrated by Rapunzel's lack of interest by the day.

Though he doesn't want to, Charles must face the pathetic realization that he wouldn't even know how to get her attention if he _wanted_ to. He has no idea what the princess likes. Would she want flowers? Chocolate? She doesn't seem to be terribly materialistic – at least, not like most of the girls he'd courted back in Maddoline had been. Any girl he'd ever been with before, had really only wanted Charles for his money, for his title – and he would know, because he'd been with a lot of girls. The Maddolineon prince had been called a playboy enough times to know: being a playboy doesn't get you very far when it comes to finding true love, or when it comes to knowing what to _do_ when you finally fall headfirst down the true love rabbit hole.

Regardless of their motives, _plenty_ of women had wanted him, since the fever dream of his teenage years as one of the wealthiest men in the world under twenty-five. Of course, Charles had never felt anything of great _significance_ toward any of these women – aside from the general appreciation of getting his dick wet frequently enough, and their looking good on his arm at his parents' epic parties and grand cotillions. Aside from that, he'd never had too much of a care for the women in his life, let alone any interest in _falling in love_. In all honesty, this is something Charles had assumed he would never do, if only because arranged marriages are so common, and true love in royalty is fairly rare. And he'd been okay with that, had accepted his fate.

And it would just so happen, now that Charles is _actually_ falling for a woman for the first time, now that he has real _feelings_ for someone… that someone wants _absolutely nothing to do with him._

Charles feels at a complete loss, as though he's arrived at the edge of a very high cliff, and must decide if he should turn back, or take the free fall. He would _never_ admit it out loud, but he's afraid – afraid of the moment of rejection, afraid of what it would mean to give his whole self to another person, if only because he's never experienced it before. And how do you possibly grasp the attention of a girl whose gaze is already completely, utterly fixated on something else – on _someone_ else?

Keeping Rapunzel's attention often feels like water running through Charles's hands, and every fleeting interaction with her has left him feeling more parched than the last.

He doesn't know anything about her, he realizes. Not really. He knows that she'd been hidden away from the kingdom for most of her life, kidnapped by some unhinged woman for an undisclosed reason. The gritty details of the princess's life story, for concerns of security, were kept pretty under wraps by the king and queen. Charles had heard rumors that she was stolen as a baby for her _magic hair,_ which explains why she has such a choppy haircut now. It makes sense, kind of, but the story was also a little ridiculous. He knows that she likes her pet chameleon, and taking walks in the gardens, but she doesn't seem to enjoy them very much when those walks are with him. When Charles had suggested that they take a stroll together in the past, she'd always gone a little awkward, a little stiff, as though she were shrinking back in on herself. It were as though the princess didn't know what to do with herself when she was alone with him, her own husband.

The princess likes to paint, though, he thinks. Charles has seen her painting on their bedroom balcony a few times, perched before an easel. She always looks so pretty, basking there in the sunlight, as though she were at total peace with a paintbrush in her hand. He could get her some new paint, Charles supposes, but he's not sure exactly what kind she uses, or if the particular kind really even matters.

He could get the princess a more expensive gift to catch her attention. After all, he had all the money in the world, and seemingly nothing to do with it. Jewelry, perhaps? He's not sure that the princess is very big on wearing jewelry, only because a necklace doesn't adorn her neck very often, nor bracelets on her wrists – despite her vast collection, she seems to only wear them to court events.

He'd recently noticed that she _does_ wear a ring on her ring finger, just not the one that she was given to symbolize their marriage. Something about this makes Charles's skin crawl, but he can't quite put his finger on the reason why. It's a dainty ring, the one that she often wears, shaped like a flower. When Charles had asked where she'd gotten the ring, in an attempt to make conversation with her one morning at breakfast, Rapunzel had quickly answered that it was _'a Christmas gift from her lady-in-waiting',_ whom Charles had noticed the princess is quite close friends would've believed her, if the princess's cheeks hadn't gone pinker than the delicately painted petals on the ring when he'd asked.

But, like a lot of things in his relationship with Rapunzel (if you could even _call_ it a relationship, which is a stretch), he'd pretended not to notice.

Charles _could_ get her a piece of jewelry as a gift, but then again, she doesn't even wear her wedding ring – not even to public events. This is just about the biggest slap in the face that Charles has ever received, because it's as though the princess doesn't even care to _pretend_ that they're a happily married couple. At the very least, Charles is dedicated to pretending, if that's what he has to do. Because he'd seen it done, a hundred times: when you're shoved headfirst into an arranged marriage, you smile, and you wave, and you accept the endless congratulations from the townsfolk and the nobility. You shut up, and you do what's expected of you, what's best for your people. It's positively a slap in the face that Rapunzel refuses to even do so much as pretend.

Well, that, and the unspoken issue that she's clearly still in love with someone else. But he tries not to think too hard about that, which feels more like a roundhouse kick to the gut, than a measly slap in the face.

It's not like Charles is _desperate_ for her attention or something. It's not like he freezes up whenever he's around her, and forgets everything he was about to say. It's not like he's never felt so foolish around a woman before, like a child with a schoolboy crush. It's not like he's tried to memorize her daily schedule, so that he can determine the best times and places to potentially run into her in the hallway. It's not like he loses sleep just thinking about her, and about how she sleeps so far away from him in their bed, like she's afraid of him. It's not like he hasn't noticed that she disappears a few nights a week, and doesn't return to bed until the very early hours of the morning, when the sun is starting to come up. Whenever he's confronted Rapunzel about her frequent late night disappearances, she simply says that she falls asleep while reading in the library, and she's stuck to that story for as long as they've been married.

He's not so sure that he believes it.

Regardless, Charles tries his best to ignore his worries about his wife, tries to keep his insecure thoughts from eating away at him completely – but they do, like they're rotting flesh, eating at him from the inside out. He would love to swallow these growing suspicions down, forget that he'd ever tasted them at all. But doing so, ignoring these strong feelings and urges, is becoming increasingly difficult. Charles's tongue feels coated completely with anxiety, his stomach bursting with butterflies far too often to be comfortable. Probably because he _thinks_ about her far too often to be comfortable – about her petite frame, the gentle curve of her body, the soft smile that so often graces her pretty face. About her voice, her laugh – all of the things that he's never cared to study on a woman before.

Because when you're falling in love, it's hard not to feel jealous, and it's hard not to overanalyze every move the person you're falling in love with makes. Like the way she tosses and turns in her sleep, and the way she's always eyeing the door, as though she wishes someone that isn't him would walk through it. He notices the way that she often nervously runs her hands through her short hair, lingering upon her shoulder, as though a phantom limb were resting there. When he watches the princess do this, Charles often considers the stories that he's heard – the stories about how _Eugene_ had been the one to cut her hair clean off, the stories of how it had once been long, and blonde, and possessive of a folklore-like power.

Typically, Charles would prefer blonde hair on a woman. But something about the princess is so overwhelmingly attractive, so _sweet_ , that he truly doesn't mind the brunette hair, paired with the untraditional haircut. He _does_ mind that Eugene had allegedly been the one to give it to her, but that's just something Charles will have to live with.

Another thing he has to live with, but doesn't want to, is the generally distant nature of their relationship. The way that she only says as much as a quiet _'Good morning'_ to him at the breakfast table, avoiding him completely for the rest of the day. She then turns away from him each night, typically not even bothering to mumble a good night, her back to him in their bed, an unspoken message. And that's another thing: Charles hates this damn bed of theirs. It's far too big for a married couple – not that they've been intimate enough to even need a shared bed, at all. It only serves as a visual reminder of how far she is from him emotionally. To Charles's delight, though, the princess _had_ giggled at one of his jokes this morning at the dining table, when they'd shared breakfast with the king and queen.

_That's progress, right? It_ _**has** _ _to be._

But making progress with Rapunzel feels like picking away at a glacier with a handheld icepick.

It's not that she's a cold person, per say. On the contrary – the princess carries a certain, natural warmth around her, something that Charles has never noticed about a woman before – this, he has determined, is what makes her feel different than all of the women he'd been with previously. She's a kind, compassionate princess, a princess who truly cares for the wellbeing of her people. Charles has gathered as much, the few times that he'd seen her interact with the townsfolk. She's beloved by all, for good reason, and appears to be a natural at the job, after being in the shoes of a princess for only a little over a year now. It's become quite clear to Charles that Rapunzel is a genuinely sweet, upstanding young woman. And it's not that she's rude to him in particular, because she's not. The princess is polite, pleasant to be around, even – at least, in the incredibly limited time that he gets to spend with her, between his lessons, and her lessons, and her general un-interest in him.

Despite the naturally pleasant nature of the princess, it's completely clear that she doesn't _want_ him, that she's afraid to get too close to him – afraid to give him so much as a _chance_. Charles doesn't know all of the things that have hurt her in the past, doesn't know the details of her traumatic backstory. But he _has_ gathered that Rapunzel has trouble trusting others, despite her naturally caring, inviting aura. He doesn't blame her for that, doesn't hold her lack of trust against her. But he simply wishes that the princess would at least _try_ to trust him – trust him enough to let him in, even a little. All he's begging for, is a _thread_ – a thread of her attention, of her affection. Just something to nibble on, _anything_.

Charles knows that their situation is less than ideal, knows that he'd stepped on the toes of her love story with another man. But the _reality_ of the situation, is that she must be married to him now, and Charles so desperately wishes that Rapunzel would _wake up_ already. Because four months of watching her sleep, watching her dream of someone else, is far too long for Charles to bear.

Charles will admit it, if only to himself: he's afraid too. Afraid to be vulnerable, afraid to let another person completely in, to let them see his broken parts. But he's not afraid enough to not even _try_. He _wants_ to try with her, wants to explore that feeling he gets when he looks at her – the sweaty palms, the heart jumping in his throat, the way the entire room seems to slow when she's in it. Charles has gathered that, while she's an undeniably _good_ person, the princess is very distracted by outside sources, sources which hold her back from her true potential.

And it's not even her _fault_ , the prince of Maddoline reasons, trying his best to comfort his overwhelming insecurity. It's not the princess that he blames for her lack of wanting toward him, for her lack of focus on her own marriage.

Its only one person's fault, this lack of interest that the princess has in him. One _singular_ person in which Charles has deflected all of the blame for his failing marriage with Rapunzel: Eugene Fitzherbert.

Charles has never hated another man quite so much in his twenty-one, almost twenty-two, years of life. Perhaps, because he's never had to fight for a woman's attention in this way before – Charles had always _solely_ held the attention of any woman that he'd ever wanted, right there in the palm of his hand. Perhaps, because he's never met a man like Eugene before, a man who actually rivals him in natural swagger, good looks, charming wit, and sex appeal. And it just seems wrong for a _prince_ to have to compete with someone who was once a lowlife, untrustworthy thief, and probably still is.

Charles often considers the _year_ that Rapunzel had spent with Eugene. The twelve, uninterrupted months that she'd had to fall in love with him, forever concreting Charles's fate as the 'other man.' Not concreting him as the love of her life, despite their marriage _–_ never _the one_. But the _other_ one, the guy that came along without an invitation. The wrench that was thrown in the fairytale.

Because of Eugene, Charles has to be _that_ guy. The _other_ guy. Because of Eugene, he has to be the wrench thrown in everyone's plans.

But he doesn't _want_ to be that guy anymore, he doesn't want to be the wrench in her plans. Charles doesn't want to be the guy in the attic of her mind, covered in cobwebs, forgotten and neglected. He's _been_ that guy, for _four months_ now. And just this once, he wants to be _the one_. The one that the princess yearns to see walking through the door of every room that she's in. The one that she shares her deepest, darkest secrets and thoughts with. The one that she trusts with her heart, with her body. But he'll probably never get to _be_ that person, because she's probably already entrusted all of herself to _him_ , to Eugene – leaving nothing left of herself for Charles to claim.

Charles lies in bed, in the dark, thinking idly to himself, turning all of this over in his mind. He doesn't even bother trying to sleep. She's not here – probably 'in the library.'

Lying there, he wonders if the princess even still has her virginity. Most likely not. After all, why else would she have rejected him on their wedding night, shrinking back into herself, as if he'd deeply wounded her by suggesting such a common act. He hadn't meant to offend her, not in the slightest, but _everyone_ knows that you _must_ consummate a marriage. He'd been attracted to her enough, even then, and he'd known that having sex with the princess would simply mean that he was fulfilling his duty to his kingdom. Back then, before he'd actually started falling in love with her, Charles had accepted that sex with Rapunzel didn't have to mean anything more than creating successors for the crown.

But, clearly, Rapunzel didn't see it that way. On their wedding night, she'd claimed that she simply wasn't ready for that, that she _, 'Didn't know him well enough yet to take that step.'_ Maybe that was partly true, and he'd respected her decision. But Charles didn't completely believe her reasoning, especially not after the way Eugene had punched him at their engagement ball. It had become quite clear to Charles that night, clear that Rapunzel and Eugene were still carrying a fiery torch for one another, despite Rapunzel's three month engagement to him. And Charles _would've_ believed her desire to remain a virgin, if she hadn't seemed so _offended,_ as though there were a much deeper issue behind her ' _No._ ' A deeper issue named Eugene Fitzherbert, Charles would soon realize.

_Everything_ seems to come circling back to Eugene, somehow, someway. And Charles is positively fed up with it.

He and Rapunzel hadn't done that one very simple, very expected thing, hadn't consummated their marriage as they should have. And the princess has _never_ broached the subject again, not even once, despite the fact that they share a bed every night. Charles supposes, he can't _really_ blame her. Who wants to have sex with a man that they know nothing about, a man that they don't even trust?

This four-month lack of sexual contact, the longest he's gone without it in a _long_ time, has proven to Charles just how important physical intimacy truly is when building a relationship – not that he hadn't already known this prior. It's no wonder that his 'marriage' with Rapunzel is essentially nonexistent. It completely explains why the princess is still so emotionally _attached_ to Fitzherbert. Girls are _notorious_ for this – becoming totally, suffocatingly attached to you, right after you've fucked them only once. Charles would know.

It would only make sense as to why the princess has protected her body, her entire _being_ , from him so desperately. Because, in her mind, it still belongs to someone else.

This thought leaves Charles feeling positively disgusted. Hadn't anyone taught the princess to save her virginity for _her_ _husband_? The poor thing. From what Charles has gathered, she's been kept in the dark for most of her life, about pretty much everything: both in her tower, and here in the palace, by her overprotective parents. But he would change that. Charles would teach her the way that things should be between a husband and wife, he would free her from Eugene Fitzherbert's grasp. He's far too old for her, anyway. He's probably corrupted her completely, and Charles doesn't even want to _think_ about the possibility of Eugene being the thing that she runs off to in the middle of the night.

Even though this is the most plausible answer, because _no one_ likes to spend time in the library _that_ much.

Charles just needs to find a way to win the princess over, to spark a curiosity in her about him, in the same way that he feels so curious about her. Charles would be _the_ _one_ – the one to save her from it all.

But how do you save a woman, when said woman _refuses_ to be humored, refuses to entertain even the _possibility_ of a life with you? How do you show your appreciation for a woman who appears to already have everything she could ever want, lost in the melancholy lull of her memories of _someone else?_

There are two categories, Charles realizes, of showing appreciation for a woman: public appreciation, and private. He could whisk her away, give Rapunzel no other option than to spend some time alone with him. This tactic would _surely_ get her attention, once and for all. After all, the king and queen will be leaving for a few days at the end of the week, for the first time since the lost princess's return, Charles had heard. It would be the perfect time, what with her parents' overprotective tendencies out of the way, to whisk her away romantically. But, from what Charles has gathered about Rapunzel, _forcing_ her to do something, probably won't end in the desired result. Take their marriage as example number one. Whisking her away doesn't feel necessary – at least, not right now.

So, that leaves him with the public display of appreciation. Charles could always bring the princess into town, shout from the rooftops to the village below, that, _'Hey, I'm falling in love with my wife, but she doesn't want me back, or anything to do with me, really, because she's still making doe eyes at another man! The man who stole her crown and committed_ _ **grand theft**_ _ **TREASON**_ _. How about that?'_

No, that tactic would surely offend the princess, if he hasn't done so already.

There's always dinner parties, Charles reasons. Usually, these parties are a grand, indirect public showcase of affection, in which someone hosts said party, and their guest of honor is intended to feel the appreciation of every guest who attends. Royals are notorious for those – notorious for spending thousands of dollars on one night, just to impress the nobility with endless rivers of champagne, the latest fashion trends, and one guest of honor who will be placed on a royally glistened, unattainable pedestal.

Charles shoots up in bed, drawing the silk covers back, pulling on a pair of pants, shoes, and an old shirt.

_That's it._ _A_ _**party**_.

_I'm going to throw her a party._

* * *

Stalyan had fallen into a relatively foul mood after her conversation with Flynn this morning. At first, she'd admittedly been elated to see him, her insides melting from stone at the way he'd shown up unexpectedly at her bedroom door. But the interaction hadn't gone the way that she'd hoped, and Stalyan feels herself hardening all over again, retreating back to that dark place which has become so familiar – a place marked by sarcastic comments, and a chip on her shoulder, and the notion that, _'Nothing can_ _ **really**_ _hurt me, if I just pretend that it doesn't.'_

So, Stalyan pretends. She pretends that she's a lot stronger, a lot harsher than she really is. She'd pretended for a long time, lied to her father's face that Flynn's betrayal didn't hurt as much as it had. Because it's a lot easier to be pissed off, than it is to admit that you're simply broken inside, and that the brokenness had started long before Flynn had ever left her at the altar. The brokenness inside of Stalyan had started the first time she'd found Flynn with another woman, after that first explosive fight, after that voice creeped into her mind, feeding her whatever it wanted to, saying, _'You'll never be good enough for him, you'll never fulfill his desires, you'll never be everything he needs you to be for him.'_

For a while, she'd gotten away from that voice in her head. But now, it's back, and with a vengeance.

' _You weren't enough to make him want to_ _ **change**_ _… but she is. The_ _ **princess**_ _is, in his eyes.'_

And maybe, just maybe, that's why Stalyan hates the princess so much: because she's everything that Stalyan can't bring herself to be.

Now, here Stalyan is, throwing herself at Flynn, _pretending_ that he'd never left her at the altar to begin with. Because she still loves him, and because eternally losing the one man which holds the history of her life in the palm of his hand, is too much to bear. Here she is, _pretending_ to be a maid, just to catch a pathetic _glimpse_ of him. Thankfully for Stalyan, she's a damn good actress, and the maid shoes fit her just fine. So, she's going to walk in them until her heels break – namely, she's going to pretend, until she's blue in the face – however long it takes to get Flynn back.

He still loves her, too. She can tell. He's just a little in denial, a little blinded by the princess, whatever she has to offer. But, with time, that issue will resolve itself.

In reality, a _lot_ of things hurt Stalyan. Like the princess, and the way the princess looks and acts _nothing_ like her. It bothers her that so many people fawn obliviously over the princess, placing her on a pedestal so high, so unreachable, that Stalyan couldn't even brush the bottom of it with her fingers if she tried. It bothers her that the princess seems to be followed around by this aura of _light_ , which rests upon the crown of her head, moving with the effortless grace of her petite body. It bothers Stalyan that the princess is everything she can't be: sweet, and kind, and enveloped by this warmth, so unmistakable that it's sickening, strong enough to give you heatstroke. Stalyan hates the way that the princess gives off this air of innocence and compassion that simply can't be faked.

The Baron's daughter has spent an unhealthy amount of time comparing herself to the princess of Corona – so much so, that her brain feels fried, drowned in the nuanced comparisons – like green eyes versus violet, the sun verses the dark of the night – the unshakable daydream of being ' _the one_ ,' instead of the one that got away.

Now, Stalyan is sitting in the comfort of the dark night, hidden away in one of the palace towers, tucked far back in the south wing. She studies the kingdom below, the winding roads of the village, the way that the little houses put out their candlelight, one by one. Stalyan has been spending a lot of time here, in this hidden tower, since her arrival at the palace. She'd stumbled across it when exploring the extensive palace grounds one afternoon, trying to get a sense of direction in the sheer vastness of it all. Stalyan likes this spot, mostly because it's a quiet place to think, a peaceful place to contemplate her next move.

Which is ironic, considering the man she loves is fawning over a girl who'd spent her entire life in a tower herself.

_Malicious_. That's what Flynn had called her this morning. And it had hurt, to hear him say it, to know what he really thinks of her – though, of course, she'd pretended it hadn't. Stalyan had brushed the comment away with her snarky tone and sexual innuendos, not allowing herself to really think about it until she was alone like this. Stalyan's not so sure that she's malicious, per say, as this suggests a sense of inherent evilness. It's not that she doesn't have a heart at all, and it's not that she necessarily wishes ill will upon the princess.

It's just that the princess has something Stalyan desperately wants, something that _belonged to her first._ It's just that jealousy is a vicious, unforgiving force of nature, which has claws that dig themselves deep into your skin, refusing to let go. And sometimes, Stalyan has learned, there's simply no room to be _nice_ when you're fighting for the things that you want.

So, if that makes her malicious, to fight for what she wants, then so be it.

Footsteps echo up the winding, stone staircase which leads to the top of the tower, to the window in which Stalyan is dangling her legs out of, dragging her from the waves of her obsessive thoughts. She looks down into the darkness of the stairwell, a naïve part of her hoping that it's Flynn making his way up the stairs to her, even though she knows it's not. He has no idea where she is right now. And even if he did, he probably wouldn't come to her. Flynn is probably with the princess right now, kissing her all over, the same way he had when they'd been hidden away in the study the other morning – well, when he'd _thought_ that he and the princess were hidden away, but they really weren't. When he'd been kissing the princess all over, the same way he used to do to Stalyan.

And that's just one more thing that Stalyan has to pretend doesn't hurt, even though it does.

Regardless, Stalyan knows better than to feel disappointed when it's not Flynn that enters the little room at the very peak of the tower. In the late night dusk, she can just barely make out the young man's features – blonde hair, a nicely sloped nose, and strong shoulders – the kind of steady, rigid posture that royal types always seem to carry themselves with. The man is dressed in a navy jacket and pant set, with a pair of expensive-looking, leather shoes. Stalyan wonders if he's ever worked a day in his life for these expensive things. Or, if this man, similar to the princess, was simply handed everything that he has.

Stalyan is pretty comfortable with assuming the second.

"You're late." Stalyan says bluntly, staring at the young man, following his every move like a cat ready to pounce. She has a flask in her hand, which has been keeping her company here in the quiet darkness, keeping her warm, and she takes a long pull from it.

The strong liquid is good for warming her insides, and good for helping her to forget all that hurt she likes to pretend she doesn't feel.

"I know. I apologize." The man positions himself beside Stalyan, swinging his own legs over the windowsill, dangling his feet against the side of the palace to join hers. "It's nice to see you again."

"Likewise." Well, that's a bit of a lie.

Stalyan doesn't really care to see him, and doesn't care not to. She feels no liability to this person. He's simply a means to an end, a way to ultimately get what she wants, once and for all.

"How are… _things_ going for you?"

Stalyan considers this, shrugging indifferently, not wanting to make a showcase of the vast amount of rejection she's felt since her arrival.

"They could be worse, but they could also be a lot better."

The young man sighs in heavy agreement.

"I understand. I feel the same way."

"You know," Stalyan turns to him, bending one leg under the other on the window's ledge, positioning herself to look at him better in the dark. "I really don't get it. Why you're going to all this trouble, just to get the princess to like you. You're already stuck with her forever, anyway. Arranged marriages are a dime-a-dozen, and soon enough, you'll be forced to pop out a few kids with her. Your fate is sealed, whichever way you look at it. Does it really _matter_ if you like each other?"

The young man's eyebrows push together in a pattern of puzzlement, as though he can't _imagine_ anyone _not_ liking the princess. It's as though he can't imagine what it would be like not to yearn to be on the receiving end of the princess's affection. He swipes the flask from Stalyan's hands, taking a long drink before answering, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. The cold metal of the flask bites into his lips, though the liquid warms his throat on the way down. Normally, Stalyan would protest, but she doesn't, because the uptight prince looks like he could use the liquor just as much as her.

"Yes, of _course_ it matters. She's my wife, and I would like to have an actual _relationship_ with my wife." Charles takes another long, irritated pull from the flask before continuing. "And I refuse to go my entire life competing with _him_ for her attention."

"Hey, join the club, buddy. Try coming in second place to a _princess_."

Charles sniffs, breathing deeply, the irritation clear on his face.

"Regardless, I want him gone."

Stalyan steals the flask back from the prince's cold hands, taking a long pull of her own, shrugging indifferently. Charles notes that she doesn't grimace at all, not even a little, when the strong liquid goes down. Coping mechanism, he assumes, understanding completely.

"Why do you think I'm here?"

"And are you actually capable of getting him to leave?" Charles wonders aloud.

"Yes, I'm _capable_." Stalyan reassures him, slightly offended at the insinuation about her ability to get Flynn to want her. Or, more accurately, her _lack_ of ability in getting him to want her. "I just need some time, that's all."

"I don't understand. If he's still in love with you, as you claim, it shouldn't be that hard to make him leave with you."

"It's complicated." She explains vaguely. "What _I_ don't understand, is why you're so attracted to _her_. She doesn't seem all that great."

There it is. That jealousy, nipping at Stalyan with its ugly, sharp teeth.

Charles whips his head at the Baron's daughter, as though he's been deeply insulted about his own appearance or character.

"I could say the same to you. You seem like a smart woman, a woman who would at least have some taste, even a little. I really don't understand what you could see in someone like _him_."

Stalyan considers this for a moment, considers broaching the subject of her treacherous history with Flynn, but decides against it. That's a long story, a story she doesn't have time for. They don't need to swap stories and braid each other's hair to get what they want.

"Yeah." Stalyan chuckles darkly, in partial agreement, much to Charles's surprise. She brings the flask to her lips again, emptying its contents, tipping the last of the liquid into her mouth before she finishes. She could be offended, because she is a thief, just like Flynn. She's _'someone like him.'_ But, for the sake of time, she decides to brush off the comment. "Sometimes… neither do I."

**AN: Alright… so, now we know that Stalyan and Charles know one another. We know that Charles is falling head-over-heels in love with Rapunzel, desperate to get her attention, and that Stalyan very much still wants to be with Eugene. Too bad both of the people they're in love with, are in love with each other, huh? Not only that, but we know that Stalyan and Charles are up to something. What are they plotting? How far will they each go to get what they want, and can they fully trust one another? What does this all mean for New Dream?**

**Also, Charles is notorious for double standards and sexist tendencies. Blah.**

**Anyway, thank you for reading! I hope to see you for Chapter 15. I appreciate every single one of you for sticking with my little story, and I promise that there's a lot more to come!**


	16. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello, my favorite readers! Taylor Swift's new album, evermore, is absolutely beautiful, and it's bringing a lot of inspiration for me with this story. I know Taylor Swift isn't everyone's cup of tea, and that's okay, but it's inspiring me so much! Her song 'gold rush' is today's featured song, because it feels like ballrooms and chandeliers, and Eugene telling Rapunzel about his childhood, and her hanging on to his every word for dear life. It reminds me of the way she would call him out at dinner parties for his sass, and the way the town would never see a love as pure as theirs. The song makes me think of how Rapunzel would feel about Eugene, and how many girls would probably fawn over him, as well as how she feels about Stalyan, especially in these particular lines:
> 
> I don't like a gold rush  
> I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush  
> I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch  
> Everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy the new chapter! It hit me right in the feelings to write this one. Additionally, there is a trigger warning: I want to warn everyone that there are mentions of past trauma, as well as mentions of mental and emotional abuse in this chapter. We also have an M rating for today's chapter, because there are some subtle (but not really so subtle), sexual references. Sorry for the long intro today! Enjoy!

**Chapter 15: Champagne Problems – Pt. 1**

**Champagne problem: 'A problem or dilemma that, when compared to issues of poverty, national disasters, and war, are not all that big of a deal, but nonetheless provide individuals with issues that must be dealt with.'**

* * *

"Oh, come on, Dad! Have a _little_ faith in me!"

"I _do_ , sweetheart, plenty of it. I just… I feel some… _anticipation_ in leaving you alone like this. And can you _really_ blame me? What with what happened when you were just a –"

" _Dad_. The one thing in this world that was a true threat to me, isn't here anymore. I'm perfectly safe! And besides, I'm not _alone_. I have Cass!" Rapunzel motions back to the castle, and gives her father a pointed look, shaking her head with a smile. "Not to mention, guards at every possible point of entry."

King Frederic sighs, defeated, knowing full-well that his spirited daughter isn't going to take _'No'_ for an answer. It had been the princess's idea, after all, to give her parents several, well-earned days away from their duties as king and queen of Corona. It would be their first real vacation in nearly _two_ _decades_. And with it being their anniversary tomorrow, Rapunzel had successfully convinced her parents to leave this afternoon to make the trip into the countryside, where they would enjoy a few days of peaceful quiet together. It had taken a few weeks of continuous persuasion that she was capable of holding down the fort for a couple of days, but the princess had finally gotten her parents to agree – of course, not without being faced with their concerned reluctance, still grasping onto the trauma of losing her as a baby.

Arianna steps forward, brushing past her worried husband to take Rapunzel's face into her hands, kissing her daughter gently on the forehead.

"We _do_ have faith in you, my love, I promise. But please, for the sake of mine and your father's sanity… don't leave the palace grounds while we're gone, okay? Not even with Cass or the guards. There's plenty of time to explore the kingdom while we're _here_."

"I promise, Mom. I'll stay right here! Besides, I have everything that I could ever want in the palace." Rapunzel looks back to her looming home with a soft smile.

_Eugene. Eugene is in there. Which means they shouldn't be worried about me leaving, because I'm not going to, as long as he's still here._

Rapunzel can't help but giggle as she gauges her parent's equally worried expressions, though they're trying their very best to hide them, trying not to come across as though they don't believe in her. She pushes the king and queen toward the open door of their awaiting carriage, squeezing her mother's hand reassuringly.

"Now go, enjoy yourselves! You deserve this!" Rapunzel shuts the carriage door behind them after they reluctantly climb inside, leaning in through the window to allow both of her parents to place a kiss on either of her cheeks. "I've got this _completely_ under control. Besides, what can go wrong in _three_ days?"

Well, that was a bit of a rhetorical question. A _lot_ could go wrong in just a few days. Take Rapunzel and Eugene's first few days together. But, considering this, a lot can also go _right_ in just a few days, too.

Waving goodbye to their beloved daughter, shouting resounding _'I love you's'_ as the horse-drawn carriage pulls away from the castle, the king and queen prepare themselves to be separated from her for the first time since her return just over a year ago. Rapunzel realizes that this is hard for them, to leave her like this, even if their trip _is_ only a few days long. She understands their apprehension, what with her kidnapping, and _especially_ due to the strained nature of her relationship with her parents as of late. She's been keeping herself at arm's length from just about everyone recently, and she feels especially guilty for doing it to her parents. Rapunzel knows that they've been trying to do everything they can to remain close to her, in attempts to keep their special bond intact. Her parents are desperately holding on to the bond that the three of them had spent an entire year creating, making up for those lost eighteen years – a bond that had been threatened the moment Charles stepped into their home. And when Rapunzel realized that her parents were partly to blame for his arrival.

But, regardless of her marriage to Charles and the role that the king and queen had unwillingly played, Rapunzel knows that her parents love her, more than they've ever loved anything before, and that she loves them just as much. Not only that, but they've entrusted _her_ to be the acting monarch for _three whole days._ And the last thing Rapunzel wants to do, is let her parents down, or make them think that she's not fully capable of fulfilling the role she'll be expected to fill every day, for three measly ones.

Rapunzel drops her arm from a longwinded wave as her parent's carriage disappears into the distance. She turns her back to the fading carriage, mounting the palace steps, returning to the grand foyer where Cassandra is waiting for her. The two young women start making their way down the hall, chatting cheerfully as they go.

"Well, the court is closed for the day, which means you're off the hook until tomorrow. What're you going to do this afternoon, _Queen_ Rapunzel?" Cass prods at the princess's side jokingly with an elbow, making Rapunzel chuckle. Cassandra's face falls suddenly, her eyes growing serious, speaking in hushed whispers now. " _Please_ tell me that you're not going to disappear off to find Eugene, like you always do, and become the first Queen of Corona to be involved in an _extramarital affair_."

"Oh, come _on_ , Cass." Rapunzel laughs at the notion, a mischievous look in her eye. "I'm sure I'm not the _only_ one."

"You think so, Raps?" The lady-in-waiting raises an inquisitive eyebrow, trying her very best not to be judgmental of her best friend's recent life choices, though it's a bit difficult not to be.

This judgement _only_ comes about because Cassandra loves Rapunzel – loves her like the younger sister she'd never had, and she simply wants what's best for the princess. Because Rapunzel has already been dragged through the mud enough in her young life, and she doesn't need Charles dragging her through the mud, too. And, taken from her limited interactions with him, Cassandra has gathered that Charles would do exactly that, if he were to find out about the affair the princess is having with her beloved Fitzidiot.

"I'm sure there have been other monarchs who fell in love with a commoner." Rapunzel sighs dreamily, Eugene's handsome face overflowing her mind. "Besides, I was technically a commoner, too, for most of my life. And I, for one, think it's _romantic_."

" _You would_." Cass mumbles under her breath, clearing her throat before continuing. "Well, I think it's stupid. And irresponsible." She turns to Rapunzel with a pointed look, hoping the princess will catch the hint. "Not to mention, _bound to get you into big trouble?_ Which, by association, is bound to get _me_ into trouble, in some way or another."

"That's only if I get _caught_." Rapunzel teases, leaning over to poke Cassandra in the ribs.  
"And _I_ think that _you're_ no fun."

"And I think you're blushing!"

Rapunzel's fingers fly instinctively to her cheeks, and they _do_ feel rather warm. But she only laughs, not embarrassed to reveal her true feelings with her dearest friend. Cassandra is well-versed in the princess's natural reaction to talking about Eugene. She's only seen that same, deep blush creeping up Rapunzel's neck, oh, a _million_ _times_ , if only because Eugene is the princess's favorite topic of discussion.

Rapunzel brightens quickly, as though a lightbulb has burst above her head.

"Hey, I'll race ya to the kitchens!" The easily-excited princess tumbles headfirst into a sing-songy tone of voice, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. "I heard that they're making those apple fritters you like today!"

Cassandra, despite the ever-present chip on her shoulder, despite the sick feeling in her stomach when she thinks about what would happen if Rapunzel gets caught for this affair of hers, perks up a little at this. Despite the guilt that Cassandra can't help but feel for standing by and letting her friend sink deeper into such a messy situation, she's never been one to turn down an apple fritter. Not to mention, she and Rapunzel haven't been able to spend much lighthearted time together lately – not like they once had – so, Cassandra reasons, she should take advantage of Rapunzel's bubbly mood while she can.

"The ones with that sweet glaze on top?"

Rapunzel smiles coyly, an undeniable twinkle of mischief gracing her eyes – a look that Cassandra has missed seeing from the princess lately.

"The ones with the glaze on top."

* * *

Later that evening, after convincing the head baker to let her fall into a deep, sugar-induced coma with Cass, Rapunzel has wandered her way into the palace gardens. Alone, the princess strolls idly through the hedge maze that she'd once disappeared in, although _with_ Eugene, far too many times to count. The sun is just beginning to set on the kingdom's horizon, turning the sky a deep, orange color, and the princess considers how she should've brought her paints with her. Though, what with it being the winter solstice, the sun sets far too early now, and far too quickly, to get much painting done in the evening. Usually, Rapunzel wouldn't be out by herself this late, and she _had_ promised her parents that she wouldn't leave the palace in their absence. But she's technically still _on_ palace grounds, as her mother had requested, and a little fresh air might do her good.

Rapunzel hasn't yet wandered very far into the maze, but she has been away from the castle for at least an hour now, and she wonders if anyone has even noticed that she's gone missing. Sometimes, she feels like she gets lost in the busyness of it all, swallowed up whole by the expectations of court life, like she never was meant to belong there. Sometimes, she feels so unsettlingly _seen_ , by everyone – yet, so seen _through,_ at the very same time. It often feels as though everyone is always looking at her, but doesn't really _understand_ her, or even care to try.

The princess knows that there's a lot to unpack when it comes to her personality, her ticks, her habits – a lot about her that most people simply could never understand, even if they wanted to. To do so, they would have to understand the full dynamic of her childhood. And even _she_ is still trying to fully wrap her head around that, to come to terms with the fact that what she'd endured for eighteen years, was emotional and mental abuse. Rapunzel knows that she's a little strange _because_ of that abuse, especially for royal standards.

' _Beautifully eccentric,'_ her mother had lovingly called it, the first time Rapunzel had put up a fight about wearing shoes to a public event. This felt a little bit like code for, _'Yeah, you're pretty weird. But because I'm your parent, I will love you unconditionally, despite your many quirks and flaws.'_ But, Rapunzel reasons with herself, _Eugene_ isn't her parent. He doesn't _have_ to love her. Really, he has no moral obligation to her. Sure, he'd died for her, saved her from her captor. But, that could have been the act of a desperate moment of passion, and not the desire to put a ring on her finger and spend the rest of his life with her. Eugene easily could have cashed out on the reward that her parents had offered for returning her to them safely, and hit the road a long time ago.

But he hadn't left, because he loves her, with a love that is genuine and true. He loves her enough to have brought her back to her parents, even though he easily could have been arrested, and hung for high treason on site. He loves her enough to stand by and watch her get married to another man, when he had wanted to marry her someday, and had expressed this desire many times over. He loves her _for_ her quirks, not in spite of them: for the way that she never wears shoes, for the way she has a pet chameleon, which frequently hitches a ride on her shoulder (and sometimes on his, too), for the way that she gets so excited about the smallest of things – like spotting a ladybug crawling on the balcony spindle, or the trustworthiness of the sun, and how it always rises each and every day, without fail.

Who else can say that they love her like that?

Strolling slowly through the maze, absently kicking rocks under her feet, Rapunzel wonders if Charles would someday love her in such a rare, irreplaceable way as Eugene does. She doubts it, doubts that _any_ man could ever love her like Eugene does. In all honesty, she doesn't _want_ Charles to ever love her, doesn't want their relationship to shift to something of mutual affection, or even friendship. He seems like the type that would see her as more of an arm piece than a partner, as Eugene sees her. Perhaps, Rapunzel would be willing to be more open to Charles, if she didn't already _have_ Eugene to love her. But she does, and receiving the love of another man, just seems wrong, even if it's only in the distant future. She dreads the possibility of losing Eugene someday, of getting caught, of Eugene being forced out of the palace. A life without him sounds completely unbearable, though she knows it's probably inevitable, eventually.

Really, Rapunzel realizes, she has _no_ _idea_ how her own husband feels about her. In four months, their relationship has made approximately zero progress on all fronts, it seems – not that she's _seeking_ progress or anything. But when it comes to Charles, the princess feels completely in the dark. And this feeling, what with her past trauma, makes Rapunzel feel incredibly anxious around him. The prince of Maddoline is a very hard man to read, making it difficult to decipher what _he_ feels when regarding her. Distaste, perhaps? Confusion, toward her bountiful quirks and strange habits? Is it irritation that he feels, because she clearly doesn't have any interest in embarking on a romantic relationship with him, or even an interest in _trying_ to? All three, maybe?

Charles doesn't seem to do backstory, even _less_ than Eugene had, if possible, and this makes Charles somewhat of an enigma to Rapunzel. Does she have to nearly drown in a cave with him in order to know what he's truly like, to know if he's trustworthy? This mysteriousness about Charles makes it hard to trust him, or to know how to act in his usually regal, stiff presence. It's clear to Rapunzel that Charles had grown up and participated in the court his entire life – that, unlike her, he isn't playing a part, he isn't still in the midst of learning how to be a royal – he truly was _meant_ to be a royal. For him, the role clearly comes naturally. This makes Rapunzel feel a bit insecure around him, a bit insufficient in her role as princess – like she's just an imposter, and like he's judging her for it, like he can see right through her.

Logically, does it really _matter_ how Charles feels about her, if she doesn't feel anything toward him? Probably not, the princess reasons. It shouldn't matter how her husband views her, as long as she has Eugene, who treats her with pure love, and respect, and endless adoration. But a small part of Rapunzel, that part of her which seeks validation from others, due to Gothel's many years of tumultuous mind games, _does_ care what Charles thinks of her.

Part of Rapunzel, a part of herself that she hates, cares about how the prince views her, even though she doesn't want to. This part of herself which Rapunzel despises, especially right now, wanders lazily off into _'What If Land'_ : _'What if Eugene gets tired of this situation and leaves, or_ _ **has**_ _to leave someday, and Charles is all I have?_ _It'll matter what he thinks of me_ _ **then**_ _._ _What if he hates me, and thinks that I'm too weak, or too young, or too inexperienced to be an effective queen someday, an effective_ _ **wife**_ _? What if I actively have to be his wife someday? What if, someday, I'll really have to say goodbye to Eugene? I can't do that, I can't survive that! I can't love another man, can't make love to another man. But they would expect me to,_ _ **will**_ _expect me to, eventually. I would honestly rather_ _ **die**_ _than ever have to –'_

"Princess."

Whirring, surprised by the sudden voice behind her, Rapunzel sees Charles standing there in the middle of the maze's path.

"Charles." Brushing a stray hair behind her ear, Rapunzel hugs her arms around her middle, always unsure of what to do or say in his presence. It's completely ironic that they go to sleep in the same room every night, considering the consistently awkward nature of their interactions. "Hello."

"Hi." The prince chuckles a little, because her nervousness is endearing, and because she looks really pretty right now, in the golden glow of the sinking sun, surrounded on all sides by the tall hedges.

"How… how are you?" She steps forward, tentative. "Are you taking a walk, too?"

"I'm very good, Princess, thank you." Charles stands formally, waiting for her to step closer to him. "Actually, your presence is requested in the palace, so I thought that I would fetch you, escort you back." He shoots a nervous hand into the air, quickly adding, "Only if that's alright with you, of course."

"Oh. Well… I suppose that would be okay." Rapunzel slowly takes the arm that Charles offers to her, allowing their elbows to be hooked snuggly together.

The action makes her think of Eugene, and how he'd had to learn how to properly escort her to balls, dinner parties, and the like. At their lessons, he would always find a way to make her laugh, and this would typically end in the both of them getting a pointed glare from the instructor, but they never cared enough to stop having fun whenever they were together. Eugene always made sure that, despite her new life, Rapunzel never fell into the trap of getting a little too uptight – in the trap of losing who she really was – as many royals often do. She loved him for that.

Charles had fallen into that trap – or so, it _seems_ like he had. Rapunzel doesn't really know him well enough to be sure. But he _is_ pretty stiff, ninety-nine percent of the time.

Upon approaching the castle, Rapunzel notices an abundance of people and carriages at the castle entrance, her eyebrows pushing together in confusion at the sight. Charles simply ushers her inside, through one of the side doors from the gardens, watching her reaction closely with a small smile.

"Wha... what are all these people doing here?"

Taking her hands suddenly into his, Charles stops their journey in the hallway, beaming down at her, as though he's incredibly proud of himself about something. Rapunzel has never seen him act this way before, so… _happy_ , and Rapunzel feels thoroughly confused now. It's not that Charles is an unhappy person, per say, but he seems significantly less _stiff_ than usual.

"I wanted to do something nice, to show my appreciation for you." Charles sighs, his tone growing serious for a moment. "I know that it's been a strange few months, for both of us. I know that you don't really know me yet, but I wish you did. And we're in the New Year now, and I just thought it would be nice, you know, to celebrate. To celebrate a fresh start. To celebrate… _you_ , Princess."

"Your appre... by throwing me a… _party_?" Rapunzel asks, still thoroughly puzzled by the prince's intentions.

Though she sleeps next to Charles every night (well, when she's not sneaking off to Eugene's bed), they really barely even know one another. Considering this, why would he suddenly want to _'show his appreciation for her'_ now? Can you really show your appreciation for someone that you don't know very well at all?

"While my parents are gone? I don't think they would be very happy about —" The princess looks around to the guests milling about outside of the grand ballroom, forcing a smile at the people she makes eye contact with, so that they won't get the wrong impression about her attitude toward this sudden… _party_. This party, in which she's apparently intended to be the guest of honor.

"Nonsense, Princess." Charles waves a dismissive hand, taking her by the shoulders. "These are our people, and this is our palace, just as much as it is your parent's. The night is young, and so are we! Come. Let's say hello to your guests."

"Alright... but I mean, I'm not properly dressed, I'm not prepared —" Rapunzel motions down to her lightweight day dress, not really suited for a grand party.

"I think you look beautiful, just the way you are." Charles grins in response, and now, Rapunzel feels _really_ confused. "Come on."

Before the princess can take so much as a breath of protest, Charles has grabbed her by the hand, pulling Rapunzel into the grand ballroom, which is already overly-crowded with guests – some have familiar faces, some do not. When the _'happily married'_ couple enters the vast, extravagantly decorated room, their eyes fixate on one person, at the very same moment.

"Eugene." Rapunzel breathes softly, not really meaning to say his name out loud.

Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad, after all. Without fail, everything is _always_ a lot more bearable when Eugene is around.

Now, Eugene is making his way, alone, down the grand staircase. He's dressed in one of his newer vests, a deep, midnight blue one, made of expensive leather. He's wearing a white shirt under the vest, tucked into a pair of tight dress pants. Rapunzel notices that he's wearing his favorite pair of boots — the sturdy, leather ones that he only wears for special occasions. Eugene had been given the boots for her coronation, which feels like ages ago now, and he'd been so excited to get a new pair. Just like _she'd_ been so excited to become princess, and to finally be in the place where she was meant to be all along. To be here, in the castle, with her parents, and best of all, with him. That's where she's _really_ meant to be, Rapunzel has always known – wherever _Eugene_ is.

If only their past selves could've seen what would happen in only about a year's time.

In real time, the eyes of countless females in the room turn their attention to the staircase, watching Eugene like he's a steaming meal that's been set before them, noting his easy swagger and relaxed movements. As far as _they_ know, he's a single man now, and Rapunzel can see it on their faces – the lust, the desire, the yearning thoughts to be bedded by a man who looks like… _that_.

It's nothing new. Since their arrival in the kingdom, the princess has had to become accustomed to the whispers about Eugene from the other girls, at every party just like this one. Sometimes, she would get jealous of the endless whispers and stares. She would wonder if Eugene would rather be with one of them, given the option – with one of the girls with long hair, bigger breasts, more _experience_. And he would only chuckle, and kiss her passionately, and tell her to _never_ worry about that, because _'Everything I could ever want, is right here in front of me.'_ And usually, she would listen to him, save for right now. Because now, everyone thinks they aren't together anymore, and Rapunzel can pick out at _least_ fifteen women who would love to get Eugene to take them to a spare bedroom.

' _No, don't look at him like that, with your big, fawning eyes. He's mine, he's_ _ **still**_ _mine!'_

Maybe she's trying to convince herself, more than she's trying to convince them.

Thankfully for Rapunzel's insecure thoughts, he pays no attention to any of the lustful eyes following him. Eugene makes his way down the staircase and into the grand ballroom, stopping first at the refreshment tables. A few familiar faces nod to him, but he doesn't stop to chitchat with anyone. It's as though the room has been brought to a sudden lull, everything moving in slow motion. As this is a party clearly thrown by Charles, Rapunzel hadn't expected Eugene to be here at all, though she's relieved that he is. Even if Eugene doesn't get to stand by her side for most of the night, or dance with her, like he'd once been able to, his sheer presence immediately calms Rapunzel's nerves. She should be used to these big, royal parties by now, but part of her still isn't, and she's not sure if she ever truly will be.

Apparently, Charles hadn't expected Eugene to be here, either, because _his_ nerves appear to suddenly be wound up rather tight, his strangely happy mood thrown to the wind.

" _Eugene_." Charles grinds the name between his own teeth, his eyes narrowing, his grip tightening on Rapunzel's arm.

The prince drags Rapunzel along to the refreshment table where Eugene is now standing, pouring himself a drink. Charles taps on the former thief's shoulder, a painfully obvious, irritated look crossing his face. Eugene turns around, and Rapunzel's heart drops to the pit of her stomach, because _God_ , he just looks so... _good_. _All the time_.

She can smell the aftershave on him, like he's just freshly shaven. And suddenly, the prince on Rapunzel's arm doesn't even exist – because he's blonde, and doesn't have any facial hair, and he's dressed far too stiffly, and he never makes her stomach clench.

But mostly, because he's not Eugene.

"Oh. Hey, Blondie." Eugene greets her easily, and Rapunzel's knees go weak, the way they always do when he calls her 'Blondie.' Or when those eyes meet hers. Or when he does anything, really.

Eugene's gaze shifts to Charles, looking the prince up and down, only once. His facial expression remains the same, as though he were utterly unimpressed.

"Charles."

Neither man offers a hand to shake, only looking at one another with hard, bottomless stares.

Charles huffs a little, hugging Rapunzel tighter to his side. She wants to pull away, mostly because she's itching to be in Eugene's arms instead, but she knows that she can't. Because it would be rude, and people are watching, and she's the princess, which means that she has a certain level of decorum to maintain. And, most importantly of all, she's supposed to be happily married. Even if Charles touching her in the way that he is, so protectively – no, so _possessively_ – makes Rapunzel's skin crawl.

"Why are you _here_ , Fitzherbert?"

Eugene shrugs, looking rather unphased by the annoyance dripping from Charles's tongue.

"Because I heard there was gonna be a party tonight. And I heard there would be free alcohol. So, I came to said party." Eugene's voice is rather dull, as though he were bored, though Rapunzel catches the fire burning in his eyes when he glances at her – especially when he notices the way Charles's hand is resting tightly on her hip. She can tell that Eugene is trying not to look at her for too long, trying not to give his anger away.

_Because Charles has his arm around me, pulling me into him. He doesn't like that Charles is touching me, just like_ _**I** _ _didn't like it when Stalyan was touching him. Just like I don't like the way all of these girls are staring at him, like he's a piece of meat, like he's a prize to be won._

"But you weren't _invited_ —"

Rapunzel, though she struggles to remain present, finds herself drifting away, staring at Eugene's face as Charles speaks with clear irritation on his lips. She can't help it – the rest of the room sort of just fades away when Eugene looks at her. With Charles, Rapunzel always feels a stiffness in her chest. Around him, she feels a little awkward, almost unsure of herself. When she looks at him, she _wants_ to see a nice young man, someone that could maybe even be her friend, if she felt so inclined to give him the chance to be. In another world, in which she'd never known Eugene, maybe that could've happened.

After all, Rapunzel would've been forced to marry Charles regardless, Eugene, or no Eugene – even if she had never been kidnapped, thanks to the marriage arrangement that her parents had signed with Maddoline when she was only a baby, Rapunzel always would have been expected to marry Charles. But all Rapunzel can see when she looks at the prince, is the person that ruined her life. Because she _did_ meet Eugene. She _was_ kidnapped, and she did go on this grand adventure with a man that she would fall _so_ in love with. This was the man who saved her, and she in turn, saved him. When she looks at Eugene, Rapunzel sees her best friend, her lover, her greatest confidant, her most trusted companion. When she looks at Eugene, she sees over a year of precious memories, intricate moments locked away in her mind's eye forever. All she sees when she looks at Charles, is someone who _isn't_ Eugene, in every way. It's even easier to compare them, when they're standing face-to-face like this, looking like they want to throw a punch at any moment.

And Rapunzel feels horrible for that, for the way that she unfairly compares Charles to Eugene – because it's really not Charles's fault, the marriage. He's clearly trying – trying to get to know her, what with this party that he'd thrown in her honor. He was dragged into the marriage, just as much as she was. The difference is, Charles is actually _trying_ to make the most of it, unlike her. But she can't help it. Rapunzel can't help desperately wanting to keep the prince at arm's length, because she's a little too busy being in Eugene's arms most of the time not to.

Rapunzel considers the way that she feels around Eugene, a heavy contrast from the awkwardness she feels when she's around Charles. When she's with Eugene, there's an air of safe familiarity which surrounds them, an air of mutual trust — an air that wordlessly says: _'I can see right through you. I know how you feel, I know what you think, and I know what you want from me, because I feel and want it, too.'_

Sometimes (like right now), when she looks at Eugene, Rapunzel starts to feel a little warm and _achy_ between her legs, and it becomes really hard to focus on anything _but_ that deep, clenching sensation in the pit of her stomach. Sometimes, she can't get a steady grasp on how he looks the way that he does — Eugene is by far the most beautiful man she's ever laid eyes on – and Rapunzel has met a _lot_ of men since leaving her tower. Many men of noble, highly-ranked status – men with well-rehearsed pickup lines, and lots of money, and regal sounding names. And none of them had ever succeeded in capturing her attention, in igniting so much as a spark between them, in inducing even the _smallest_ reminisce of lust within her. Only Eugene can do that – only he can evoke that deep, desperate need from her, a need that comforts itself in the form of weepy moans, and pleas for release, and the occasional bad word – words that Rapunzel _knows_ she shouldn't say as a princess, words that are just her and Eugene's little secret.

Not that it was for a lack of _trying_ on the part of the many other men that Rapunzel has come into contact with since her arrival in the kingdom. Plenty of young (and even some of the older) noblemen, had taken her hand at a ball, looked her up and down at a dinner party, not even trying to hide their yearning expressions. Plenty of men had asked her for a dance, flirted shamelessly, offered her a drink. Eugene had hated it. After the parties were over (or sometimes, in the _middle_ of the party, if they were feeling courageous enough to sneak away for a while without her parents noticing), and after he'd had a few drinks in him, Eugene would complain loudly about how, ' _No one respects the boundaries of happy relationships anymore, and no one respects how_ _ **clearly**_ _in love we are._ '

So, when no one was looking, Rapunzel would drag him to her bedroom, where they would shamelessly fool around for a half hour, sometimes more. She would show him just how 'clearly in love' they really were, with her tongue in his mouth, and her thighs squeezing around his hips, and little moans falling from her lips. Eugene would subsequently forget about whatever guy had tried to woo the princess this time, because he was the _only_ one who could really touch her, in such intimate ways, the only one who got her to whimper his name in pleasure, and the only one that she was whispering _'I love you'_ to every night before bed. After a while, Eugene came to terms with the fact that potential suitors were just something that he would have to deal with, at least until it was the right time to get down on one knee. These potential suitors were a lot easier to deal with after returning Rapunzel to said party, with her cheeks flushed, and her lips swollen, with that undeniably giddy expression on her face.

After a year of practice, they'd become really good at slipping away from parties unnoticed, sometimes for twenty minutes, sometimes for an hour, sometimes two.

But sometimes, they couldn't find a moment to sneak away to her bedroom or to the nearest broom closet. In this case, Eugene, in all of his natural swagger that he'd built up after all those years of playing Flynn Rider, would make his way over to the princess, when someone who clearly wished to court her would be glued to Rapunzel's side. He would gently tug at her hip, so that their hips would touch, so that she would be pressed into his own side. Eugene did this, as if to simply say, _'She's mine, so back off.'_ And she was.

The gesture was never overly possessive, and Rapunzel never felt like she was Eugene's property. Eugene was never rude or obvious about his jealousy to the other men of the court in which he was expected to mingle with. He was always polite, and despite his past, they were polite back. He never blatantly interrupted any of the conversations that Rapunzel was expected to engage in with her fellow royal people. He would only come by periodically to check on her for a little while, to reinstate the fact that she was already taken. The gesture was always subtle, and controlled, sending the quietest of messages. But the other men always caught on, regardless. _'She's mine.'_

And that's all Rapunzel can think about right now, standing here in the crowded ballroom with Charles's possessive hand at her hip, as she looks into Eugene's provoked eyes _: 'I'm his. I've always_ _ **been**_ _his. I'll always belong to him, and God, I want him_ _ **so**_ _badly right now. I want to sneak off, just like we have so many times before, get out of this party, rip his clothes off, and —'_

"There wasn't a guest list at the door. I checked." Eugene smiles, a tad bit smug, and Rapunzel senses that Flynn Rider might come out to play tonight.

She's not entirely sure if that's a good, sexy thing, or a completely disastrous, horrible thing. It's honestly a little hard for Rapunzel to dissect how she truly feels about Flynn Rider, because Eugene doesn't act in nearly the same way that he had when he'd first met her. That's why, in the big fight that they'd had over Stalyan, she'd called him out for acting like Flynn, and hadn't exactly meant it as a compliment; mostly because Rapunzel's feelings regarding Eugene's alter ego are still unsorted, to a degree.

She understands the backstory as to _why_ , but Flynn Rider was selfish, and unpredictable – a wild card, always playing his cards close to his vest, always arrogant, and cocky, and untrustworthy. It was the almost-overwhelmingly loving, compassionate _Eugene_ who Rapunzel had fallen in love with. And sometimes, it feels like they're two completely different people, separated by two completely different lifetimes, fueled by completely different intentions, and responsibilities, and levels of vulnerability.

It doesn't happen very often, that Flynn Rider makes an appearance. Usually, Rapunzel has noticed, the snarky thief persona only seems to come out around Charles. Maybe it's a coping mechanism, maybe it's a deflection of Eugene's true feelings, a way to protect himself from the arrogant prince – a way to protect _her_ , from Charles finding out about the affair. A way to deflect Charles's attention off of her. She's not too sure, because really, Rapunzel has a lot more experience with _all_ sides of Eugene, than with an irritated Flynn Rider. It seems silly to say, because technically, they're the same person – but in a much more real sense, they're very much so _not_ the same person.

And between the alcohol, and the smug expression, and the provoking comments, Eugene seems to be falling headfirst into Flynn Rider mode, and Rapunzel's not sure how to feel about it.

"Besides, I live here." Eugene finishes, taking a long drink from the glass in his hand, raising his eyebrows at Charles, as if to say: _'What? Are you going to kick me out? Because I'd like to see you try.'_

Charles would, if he could. He would kick Eugene right out of the palace, plop him down in the orphanage where he'd come from, if that were an option. The prince so desperately wants this man away from his wife, as soon as possible. Mostly because she disappears far too often for comfort, and because Eugene strikes Charles as the type of guy who would find essentially no guilt in bedding a claimed woman (don't even ask Charles to find the irony in the fact that _he'd_ been the one to take an already-claimed woman from _Eugene_ , and not the other way around). But unfortunately, getting rid of the ex-thief so _directly_ isn't an option, and the king and queen seem to like him enough to let him stick around. Not to mention, Charles doesn't have that kind of leeway in the palace, to force someone to leave.

_Yet._

So, Charles will just have to use some other, more… _secretive_ tactics. Little does he know, that Eugene and Rapunzel have some dirty secrets of their own.

A waiter steps up to Charles and Rapunzel, offering them each a tall, sparkling glass of champagne on a silver platter. Rapunzel politely refuses, assuming that it would be best to remain sober-minded tonight, not knowing where the conversation between the two men in her life is going to lead (keeping in mind that, at a party just like this one, a conversation between them had once ended in a heated fistfight). But Charles snatches one of the glasses up hastily, quickly downing its bubbling contents in just a few gulps, making hard eye contact with Eugene all the while. The angry prince reaches for the other glass, knowing Rapunzel isn't going to take it, but doesn't drink it right away. If Eugene is going to be at this party, making lustful eyes at his wife all night, Charles muses with irritation, he's going to need some liquid courage to get him through – _especially_ if Eugene decides to throw a punch at him. Again.

The waiter steps away with a slight bow, and Charles wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He simply glares at Eugene, who leans forward, clinking the glass in his own hand to Charles's.

"Drink up, Charles. It's gonna be a long night."

Before Eugene walks away, he looks to Rapunzel and gives her a wink. Not a subtle, hidden one, but an obvious, intentional one, one that's ultimately fueled by jealousy and annoyance. A _Flynn Rider_ wink. A wink that sends a shiver down Rapunzel's spine, and a slight pool of warmth between her legs.

She chuckles softly in reaction, trying her very best to hide her _real_ reaction – to hide the blush creeping up her neck, the lust in her eyes. She knows that she shouldn't laugh aloud, but she can't help it, and it's better than Charles detecting what she's _really_ feeling. Regardless, this gentle giggle causes Charles's skin to burn, his eyes narrowing into furious slits.

It was a bold move — one that wordlessly suggests, _'I'm fucking your wife, and there's nothing you can do about it'_ – one that Eugene probably shouldn't have blatantly made in front of Charles, and he knows that. It's a move that could get the both of them into big trouble, if Charles were to read too far into it. But a large part of Eugene doesn't really care. Because he's incredibly _tired_ of pretending, exhausted by it. He's tired of watching this asshole, this excuse of a regal, stuffy prince, touch the woman he loves. If Eugene has to look at Charles's fingers gripping into Rapunzel's hip for any longer, he's going to lose his mind, and Charles is going to end up on the floor with another bloody nose.

And maybe it just has something to do with the three drinks that Eugene already had before their arrival. But he's not going to read too far into _that_.

But when he walks away, Eugene doesn't get too far across the ballroom before he feels a hand on his shoulder, tugging him gently back. It's Charles, with an angry expression plastered across his face. Eugene looks over the prince's shoulder to Rapunzel, who's looking on with her own concerned expression, not taking her eyes from Eugene, wringing her hands together nervously. Eugene forces himself to pull his gaze from her sweet face, turning back to an enraged Charles, wearing a complacent smile that only Flynn Rider would dare to give in a moment of such high tension.

"What? Did you want a wink, too?"

Charles huffs like a child who has been told _'No'_ for the very first time, shaking his head in clear disbelief at Eugene's sudden ballsy-ness. Again, probably the alcohol at steady work.

"You know, _Eugene_ …" Charles states, sneering the name. "Someday, you're going to wake up, and you're going to realize that you should've been paying a lot more attention."

Now, it's Eugene's turn to narrow his eyes, furious deep brown meeting equally furious, ocean blue.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Your ignorance, your ego, your… your stupidity. Your inability to _let go_ _of her_. It's all your downfall. You let your jealousy over her _blind_ _you_ to what's really happening here. And when you finally come to terms with what's going on…" Charles leans in, slapping Eugene's shoulder in a way that's anything but friendly. " _It'll be._ _**Too. Late**_."

Eugene shoves the prince's hand away, sure they're about to cause a scene, similar to the one that they'd caused at the engagement ball, not even two months ago.

"You know, _Charles_ … I've decked you once, at a party that looked an awful lot like this one." Eugene leans in himself, teeth gritted, their faces only inches apart. "And I'm not afraid to do it again."

"Oh, come now. That's not necessary. Besides, what would Rapunzel think of you then?"

"I think she'd understand."

Charles laughs, throaty and arrogant, his turn to be smug.

"I think what she _needs_ to understand, is that I am her _husband_ , and that _you_ are not. And that you have no right to be here anymore. She is married to _me._ You are no longer in _fairytale land,_ where a _thief_ can be with a _princess._ It would be in your best interest, and in hers, to leave her alone." Charles leans forward, his tone hushed. "Because I can _promise_ you this, Fitzherbert: you still being here, is only going to make things worse for _her_."

Eugene will never dare to show the prince how much his words shake him, deep in his core – Charles doesn't deserve the satisfaction. So, he lets Flynn, with his limited emotional range, take this one.

"Maybe you are married to her. But marriage is just another piece of paper, buddy." Eugene smiles that same complacent, Flynn Rider-esque smile, slapping Charles's shoulder in kind. The prince flinches away, a look of disgust on his face. "And it doesn't mean anything, unless _she_ wants it to."

And with that, Eugene stalks away, the smile immediately dropping from his face when his back is finally turned. He can't look back at Rapunzel, because if he does, he's going to do something bad – something that would embarrass her in front of all these people, or scare her, or get all three of them into deep trouble with the king and queen when they return. If he could, Eugene would swoop the princess up in his arms, and get her out of this entrapping place, for good. But he can't do that, because there's too many beady, noble eyes around – too many eyes that won't side with him, a lowly commoner, if a fight breaks loose.

So, for now, Eugene will bide his time, and pray that Charles's haunting words don't hold any real weight.

* * *

After about an hour of worrying about Eugene and mingling with her guests – well, more accurately, with _Charles's_ guests – Rapunzel can feel her social meter beginning to tick lower and lower, and fast. As the princess, you're far too often expected to be ready to interact with people all the time. For most, this is no big deal, but this constant socialness has been a difficult adjustment for Rapunzel, after spending eighteen years primarily in her own company. Even after over a year of doing so, it still doesn't feel completely normal to be at these overly-crowded events. Typically, these parties and balls take a lot out of her, and Rapunzel feels her energy beginning to inevitably drain, as it's starting to get late in the night, and the party is showing no signs up letting up any time soon.

There was a time when she'd been able to find Eugene at these parties, lean against him for a moment until the wave of anxiousness washed away, but the princess can't even openly do that anymore. It feels like there's a _lot_ she can't do – or, more accurately, isn't _supposed_ to do, but that she still does anyway.

Rapunzel excuses herself from the group of young, noble people that she's been chatting pleasantly with, walking to the refreshment table, in hopes of finding a quick moment alone. Before she has the chance to pour herself a drink, though, she feels something being pressed into the palm of her hand. She looks up to see Eugene nonchalantly walking away from her, steadily making his way to the opposite side of the ballroom and toward the grand staircase, which leads out of the room and onto the second level of the palace. Confused, Rapunzel looks into her palm, finding a neatly folded piece of paper there. Turning her back to the ballroom, she faces the wall, opening the small piece of paper in her hand. On the paper is what she immediately recognizes as Eugene's quickly scrawled handwriting, and a short message:

' _Meet me in the gardens. I'll be in the maze. Ten minutes.'_

Tucking the note deep into her dress pocket, Rapunzel tries her best to stifle a smile, tries her best to keep a poker face. Walking up to Charles, she announces that she's going to make her way to the powder room to freshen herself up. He asks if she would like an escort, and she politely declines, making her way from the ballroom and into the hallway. Rapunzel can barely manage to keep herself from bursting into a full-out run, but she contains herself, making the journey across the palace grounds to the north gardens, where the hedge maze is located.

The sun has long since set, enveloping the gardens in a blanket of darkness. Rapunzel creeps into the black night, periodically looking over her shoulder as she goes, to ensure that no one has followed her outside. Entering the maze, she notes the atypical size of the moon tonight, which provides an iridescent glow, bright enough to guide her way down the maze's entrance path.

"Eugene?" Rapunzel whispers quietly, just in case someone else is around, though the gardens appear to be completely dead, as its well past midnight now.

There's no answer, no ruffling of the bushes. There's only the stillness of the night, so still that Rapunzel can hear her heart beating in her chest in anticipation, her body not completely forgetting the lust that she'd felt when she'd first seen Eugene in the ballroom – despite the tension of the conversation between him and Charles. The princess can still faintly hear the live music and muffled commotion of the party echoing from inside the castle. But she pushes forward, stepping deeper and deeper into the maze, assuming that no one will miss her, if no one realizes that she's gone.

" _Eugene!_ "

Nothing. Rapunzel stops, spinning in a quick circle – though the motion is counterintuitive, as she's now surrounded on all sides by tall hedges.

" _Eu_ –"

"Ah, hah! Gotcha!"

Out of nowhere, two hands pull the princess at the waist from behind. A scream rises in her throat, but a rough hand quickly covers her mouth before so much as a gasp can come to fruition. The hands drag Rapunzel deeper into the maze, around the corner where it's ensured that they won't be seen, the dark of the night swallowing them whole.

In most cases, Rapunzel would be startled to the point of utter fear at the sudden hands around her middle, catching her completely by surprise. That is, if she couldn't smell the aftershave, and if she wouldn't be able to recognize the feel of those hands anywhere, the sound of that voice, even in the darkness.

"Hey, you." Eugene turns her around in his arms with a smile, placing a gentle kiss on her nose.

"Hi." Rapunzel responds softly, and the gentle familiarity of her voice sends a jolt of wanting through Eugene.

The former thief looks around for a long moment, recalling when they'd snuck off to the gardens on Christmas Eve night, just last year. Rapunzel seems to know exactly what he's thinking, the current scene far too familiar, vividly remembering that special night, as well. The princess places a hand to the side of his face, running a thumb soothingly up and down Eugene's cheek. He gratefully leans into her touch, covering her hand with one of his own, and Rapunzel wonders if Eugene wants to talk about what had happened between him and Charles in the ballroom earlier.

"You okay?" She asks quietly, a concerned look pushing her eyebrows together in clear worry.

_Damn it, I worried her. That's the last thing I ever wanted to do._

Eugene smiles softly, loving Rapunzel for how much she always cares, for how quick she always is to offer a caress, a loving word of reassurance.

"I just… I miss this." He finishes with a heavy sigh, closing his eyes against her hand.

Meaning, _'I miss being able to sneak around with you like this for the sheer thrill of it, not because we have no other_ _ **choice**_ _than to sneak around.'_

Eugene wraps both arms around her waist, pulling his princess close. He drags a hand up her back, making her shiver, reaching to her face to brush away the stray hair there, and tucking it behind her ear as he so often does. He's studying her face closely, she realizes, his pupils moving back and forth rapidly.

"I missed _you_." Eugene finishes endearingly, an undeniably sad look in his eye.

"You saw me, just earlier!" Rapunzel giggles quietly.

"I saw you with _Charles_." Eugene corrects, his voice softening to a raspy, emotion-filled whisper. "And it's fucking killing me, Blondie." He sighs heavily, running a hand through her hair absently, his eyes glued to her face, trying his best to memorize every intricate feature. "I'm sorry for dragging you out here in the cold. But I _had_ to feel you, had to talk to you alone for a few minutes. I had to tell you that you look… _so_ beautiful right now, and that you're still…" He struggles to finish, the words getting caught like a lump in his throat. "You're still –"

Rapunzel steps onto the tips of her toes to capture Eugene's lips with a knowing smile, cutting him off. He eagerly leans into the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth, groaning quietly, because he's wanted her all night, too. When she pulls away far too soon, she finishes for him, knowing exactly what Eugene had intended to say to her, because he's said it a hundred more times since the first one.

"I'm still your dream." Rapunzel places a hand at the back of his neck, as they hold one another's hard gaze. "And you will _always_ be mine, Eugene, no matter what. I _promise_."

They take a long minute to mutually recall the heavy weight of those words, ' _You were my new dream._ ' Sometimes, recalling the traumatic moment that he'd said them to her, still hurts for the both of them. Sometimes, Eugene still feels a dull pang in his side, like a phantom wound, even though he knows that he's completely healed. And sometimes, Rapunzel still has nightmares about the moment his eyes had closed – nightmares that they never reopen, that their story began and ended, right there in that tower.

Eugene looks away for a moment. He absently sways Rapunzel in his arms to the sound of the very distant music that's wafting into the gardens from the palace, as though he's trying incredibly hard to compose himself before he speaks again. In the moonlight, Rapunzel can just barely make out the tears that are pricking at the corners of his eyes, tears which he's clearly fighting hard not to show.

"I probably shouldn't have come tonight. I'm sorry. I'm sure I _royally_ pissed Charles off with what I said, and probably made him suspicious, if he wasn't already. I wasn't thinking. I was just so caught up in the way that he was…" Eugene sighs deeply and his shoulders sag, as though he were carrying a heavy guilt around with him. "I don't want him to take it out on you, his hate for me. I would _hate_ myself if something were to ever happen to you –"

"Eugene… look," Rapunzel takes his hands into hers, running them up and down her sides, pressing his palms into her ribcage. It's a non-sensual movement, as if to say, _'I'm real, and so are you.'_

"I'm _fine_ , and everything is gonna be alright." She steps onto her toes again, leaning up to nuzzle his nose with hers when she notices that Eugene's worried expression isn't yet relieved. "Look, look right at me. I'm right here, with you. You are the only man that I love. I'm in _your_ arms, not his. You make me feel things… that he _never_ will."

Eugene smirks a little at that, looking away playfully, and she can't help but smile slightly, too – because she knows, that he knows, _exactly_ what she means by that. Rapunzel may as well have bluntly said, _'I ache for you between my legs,_ _ **because**_ _I love you, and Charles just can't make me feel that.'_

"And I'm always going to _be_ fine. As long as you're here with me."

Rapunzel feels a twinge of guilt when she finishes – guilt for asking Eugene to stay here, when his heart is clearly breaking, shattering into little pieces – when he could return to a life of adventure, rather than feel obligated to stay here, forced to watch her be married to another man. He's clearly in agony, if tonight was any clear reminder of their sorrowful situation.

"I know, Blondie… thank you for that."

Namely, _'Thank you for stroking my ego and for comforting my worries, because I really needed it tonight.'_

"I just…" Eugene reaches to her dress, fingering the sleeve of the delicate, pale pink fabrics made of expensive satin and lace. "I can't…"

Eugene appears to be suddenly frustrated again, his eyebrows furrowing, like he can't find the right words.

"I can't stop wondering…" He looks down at her, hesitant to finish, recalling Charles's firm warning. "How long we can really keep going on like this."

Rapunzel pulls back a little, her eyebrows instantly knitting together as well – this time, in defense.

"Do you not… _want_ to go on like this?"

"Of course not. That's not what I'm saying, Blondie. I'm just…" Eugene runs a hand over his face, willing himself not to word his concerns in the wrong way, in a way that will make Rapunzel question his deep love for her, his willingness to stay. "I'm _worried_ for you. Worried that you're going to get hurt, for sneaking around with me. I mean, don't you think Charles is going to put the pieces together at some point? Notice that you always seem to go missing around him, and eventually figure out why that is?" Eugene pauses, a look on his face that almost resembles… _shame_. "That _I'm_ the reason why that is?"

Rapunzel shrugs indifferently, considering Eugene's undeniable concern.

Of _course_ she's thought about it, plenty enough to feel guilty for the way that she neglects Charles, the way that she so often pushes him to the side, not making much of an effort to get to know her husband, even on the level of simple friendship. After all, she's already ditched the party that he'd thrown _for her_ , unable to keep her hands from Eugene. She's reasoned that Charles is probably a good person, and that he deserves someone to love him as much as anyone else, but that it's not her _fault_ that she can't be that someone. Rapunzel _does_ feel guilty, for the way that Charles was drug into an imminently loveless marriage with her.

Just not guilty _enough_ to keep herself away from Eugene. Because Rapunzel just isn't strong enough to do that, and probably never will be. Not if he keeps looking at her in the way that he always does, making her want him in that bottomless, un-ignorable way that he so often makes her feel.

"Maybe. Maybe he already _has_ figured it out. And maybe, if we're really lucky, he never will." Rapunzel's voice grows hard, and Eugene worries that he's offended her deeply, without really meaning to. "But that's a risk that I'm willing to take, _for_ _you_." She looks up to him hesitantly, sudden worry flooding her expression, desperate for reassurance herself. "Aren't you?"

Eugene, his emotions tangled in his throat, simply rests his head against Rapunzel's, placing a gentle hand on either side of her face.

"Of _course_. I'm willing to take every single risk in the world for you." Eugene breathes, his eyes fluttering shut, breathing in her scent, his forehead pressed intimately to hers. "I love you."

_Quite literally,_ _**every** _ _risk in the world. Hence the whole_ _**dying** _ _for you thing._

"I just don't want you to get hurt. You've already been hurt too much for one lifetime, my sweet girl…"

Eugene looks so _broken_ when he says this, and Rapunzel can swear she hears her heart cracking in her chest. What did Charles _say_ to Eugene earlier, before he walked away in the ballroom? She hadn't been able to make out the prince's words, but she _had_ seen the irritated shift in Eugene's face when he'd said them, shift to something else, like… like _anxiety_. Whatever it was, it's obviously really bothering Eugene, causing visible distress.

"Hey… hey. I love you, too, _so_ much, Eugene." Smiling sadly, Rapunzel wraps her fingers around his wrists, his hands still planted firmly on either side of her face. She tries to peer at his own downcast face, but it's as though Eugene can't bear to look at her right now. "Which means that I'm okay with getting hurt for you. I knew the possible consequences going into this, and I was okay with them. Because I knew that losing you… would _always_ hurt worse, no matter the outcome."

' _But I don't want you to get hurt_ _ **at all**_ _. Not even for me.'_ Eugene thinks to himself silently. _'I don't want anything bad to happen to you, not ever again. I already haven't done a good job at protecting you from this world as much as you deserve. Not like I once did, when I died for you. What have I done to protect you, now that we've been_ _ **outside**_ _of your tower?'_

Eugene opens his mouth, shuts it again, clears his throat from the thick tears that threaten to spill over and onto his face. Rapunzel looks up to him inquisitively, nodding as if to say, _'Go on, I'm listening. I'm always listening.'_

"Rapunzel?"

"Yeah?"

She peers up at him with those green eyes that he dares to get so lost in every time he looks into them, even though he knows that he probably shouldn't. And then, in a strangled voice, Eugene _says_ something he probably shouldn't.

"Run away with me."

**AN: This chapter was a little nod to the series, pulling inspiration from the episode 'Queen for a Day.' I hope you liked it! I always have so much fun with writing scenes and chapters about court/palace life, with balls and fancy parties, chandeliers, and ball gowns, and the like. I'd like to think, in a past life, I would've lived in such a world.**

**Also, who else was** _**swooning** _ **when Eugene's sassy side came out in front of Charles? And when he winked at Rapunzel? And when he was walking down the grand staircase, looking all handsome and stuff? Yeah, I love that man. If he asked me to run away with him, there would be** _***no hesitation whatsoever.*** _ **Even if I** _**was** _ **a princess and had a million responsibilities. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I know that we ended on a heavy note here, but I hope to see you again soon for Chapter 16!**


	17. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Beware – this chapter is chalk full of New Dream thoughts and feelings which are very angsty, and I kind of ripped my own heart right in half while writing it. So, enjoy that. If you're into the whole 'angsty thoughts' thing like I am, this is just the chapter for you. Today, we have two featured songs: champagne problems by Taylor Swift, and Golden by Harry Styles. Golden gives me such Eugene/New Dream vibes, specifically when considering the plot of the movie. I actually watched the movie this past week, for only the millionth time, so this chapter is very inspired.
> 
> I'm including two songs today, because we will be studying two sides of the same coin: Eugene's feelings vs. Rapunzel's feelings, in the wake of Eugene's plea for her to run away with him. The tension between our four main characters, is going to really start to build from here on out, threatening to boil over. All I'm going to say is… buckle up, people. The next 10-15 chapters will hopefully be a wild ride, and I'm so glad that you're here to enjoy it with me. Anyway, enough going on from me. Let's do this thing.

**Chapter 16: Champagne Problems Pt. 2 – Did Those Years in a Tower Make You a Coward?**

_**One for the money, two for the show** _

_**I never was ready, so I watch you go** _

_**Sometimes you just don't know the answer, 'til someone's on their knees and asks you /** _

_**I'm out of my head, and I know that you're scared** _

_**Because hearts get broken…** _

* * *

_He'd never seen a person so beautiful before. Not one. Not any of the women that he's bedded before. Surely not Stalyan. This girl, she was different, she was… so full of_ _**light** _ _. The unbearably warm, 'make you feel undeniably fuzzy inside,' kind of light. The kind that he'd never felt before meeting her._

_He'd been content to watch her, as her delicate fingers placed the little flowers from the palm of his hand (which were originally woven intricately throughout her golden hair), onto the water's glassy surface. She was waiting so patiently for this moment which she'd clearly anticipated for her entire life. She looked up, a quick motion, and that first lantern in the sky glimmered in the reflection of her green eyes. She rushed to the bow of the little boat in pure anticipation of the show that was to come, and he tried his best not to fall out, not to fall headfirst into the water at the sudden movement. He was also trying not to fall headfirst into_ _**her** _ _. But his efforts were becoming more and more lax by the moment, as he sat there watching her, wondering what her_ _**new** _ _dream was going to be, once this was all over._

_But he didn't hold it against her, the anticipation which was visibly bursting from her broken seams now, yearning to be set free. Her unique brand of childlike excitement had rubbed off on him so easily, like he'd unknowingly been waiting for this moment his entire life, too. Like everything he'd ever done, had led him to this one moment – an invisible, golden string, tying him right to her. He'd honestly never cared much about 'the lantern thing they do for the princess.' Clearly, he once hadn't cared at all, if he'd been more than willing to steal that lost princess's crown, forever damaging the beacon of hope in which it stood for. But suddenly, with_ _**her** _ _… he's never seen anything so heart-stopping. He's never felt such pent-up anticipation in his own body, to see a bunch of once-seemingly_ _**silly** _ _lights in the sky._

_And she was absolutely gorgeous, leaning out of the boat in all of her awestruck glory, as the hundreds upon hundreds of lanterns began to light the vast, never-ending sky, some of them skating just above the water's surface. And she was young, probably too young for him. And he would never deserve her, because he's just a big, bad man who steals things for a living, and makes people trust him when they definitely shouldn't. And he shouldn't take advantage, because she's never even_ _**met** _ _a man before him. But she's just so sweet, and excitable, and_ _achingly beautiful_ _**.** _

_And God, she was so easy to please, it was borderline depressing. She was so grateful just to be there, so grateful for the day that they'd spent together in the kingdom – her eighteenth birthday. She was so grateful that he'd been willing to guide her to this very moment, though it felt like she was somehow guiding_ _**him,** _ _more than anything. He'd wanted to make that day the best day ever for her, wanted to give her a day so special, that she would never be able to forget him – even long after he would inevitably bring her back to that tower. So, they'd danced, and they'd poured over the pages of every book they could find, and they'd eaten cupcakes in the shadows. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her, not since catching the adorable little jumps of excitement that she'd made from the moment they'd entered the kingdom, that excitement following her everywhere that she went. Especially not since those little girls had braided her hair so pretty like that._

_And she was just so_ _**happy** _ _. So ecstatic to take it all in for the first time. He'd bought her a flag for her birthday – a_ _**flag** _ _, for crying out loud. She'd acted like she'd never seen anything so great in her entire life, tucking it away to forever be a treasured memento of their adventure together, intended to be kept long after they said goodbye. And now, with the lanterns floating all around her, surrounding her in this warm, golden light that she's fully capable of creating all on her own, he can't even remotely imagine finding the right words to say goodbye to her…_

' _Am I losing it?' He'd thought to himself. 'Am I completely losing my mind? I've never felt this way about a girl before, not so fast. Not_ _ **ever**_ _. I don't trust anyone. So, why is it that I trust her so much? Why do I trust her enough to admit that I was an orphan, that I still kind of_ _ **am**_ _, after only one day of knowing her? Why do I trust that she'll give me my satchel back when this night is over? I don't_ _ **want**_ _this night to be over. Stalyan wasn't like this, not at all. She wasn't this…_ _ **gentle**_ _with me. This girl in front of me now, she's a tough little thing, no doubt about that.'_

_Dare he say, she was pretty ballsy sometimes, if only because she didn't know any better, and he had a few bumps on his head from a frying pan to prove it._

' _But she's also incredibly sweet – a stark difference from Stalyan. She didn't even call me by my real name, for crying out loud. Not even once, and I've known her for nearly ten years! To be fair, no one calls me Eugene, because in any other circumstance, I'd deck them if they did. But_ _ **she**_ _does, and I actually kind of…_ _ **like it**_ _, when it's coming from her mouth. Stalyan liked who I was as Flynn Rider. But this girl… she prefers me with my walls down, my defenses shattered in her little, unknowing hands. She'd admitted so herself.'_

_Her words echo in his mind, the words she'd spoken as he stood there before her in the firelight: "For the record, I like Eugene Fitzherbert_ _**much better** _ _than Flynn Rider."_

' _And like Stalyan, I kind of thought that I preferred myself as Flynn Rider, too. Now, I'm not so sure.'_

_He'd gotten two lanterns, one for each of them to lift into the sky, because he'd thought that she would probably like that. But when he'd offered them, she hadn't taken her lantern right away._

" _I have something for you, too." She'd said with a cute, little laugh. "I should've given it to you before, but I was just scared. And the thing is… I'm not scared anymore." She'd looked to him intently, as if she were praying that he'd understand. "You know what I mean?"_

_And, surprising himself completely, he'd pushed the satchel away – pushed the crown away – the crown that would have made him rich beyond belief._

" _I'm starting to."_

_That's what he'd said to her, what he'd dared to share aloud. But really, he'd thought: 'I don't want it. I don't want it anymore, it doesn't matter. The enormous piles of money, the island, the crown – none of it matters. You matter,_ _**only** _ _you matter right now, in this enchanting, special moment. And right now, I don't care about anything that isn't you. Because my head is so cloudy, and my heart feels ten sizes too big for my chest. And after Stalyan, I promised myself that I wouldn't fall for someone again, that I would never bear my heart to another woman. I would sleep around, and that would be good enough. But I don't want that anymore. And it's all your fault that I'm breaking this promise to myself, but I don't even have the common sense right now to care.'_

_And they'd sent their lanterns into the sky, and he'd taken her by the hand, because he couldn't think of a good enough reason not to._

' _I'm going to kiss her,' He'd decided, his train of thought unable to move on from that one very simple, very easy thing – something he'd done a thousand times, with too many different girls to remember all the names of. And he'd found himself actually feeling_ _ **nervous**_ _to kiss her. Flynn Rider didn't_ _ **get**_ _nervous._

' _I probably shouldn't. But I want to kiss her, I want her. I need to know what she feels like. I need to know everything about her, I need to know the softness of her skin. And no, not like that. I don't want her like that. For the first time, with this strange, beautiful young woman, that's not what I want from her. I just want her for who she is. Not for what she can offer, not for what her body can do for me. I don't want her to trust me enough that I can get what I want from her, get her into bed, and disappear tomorrow morning. I just want her to trust me, for the sheer sake of it, and I_ _ **don't**_ _want to bring her back home. I want to be with her for longer than just tonight. Because right now, it feels impossible not to want that.'_

_So, he'd tucked her hair behind her ear, because he didn't want her for her hair, as she'd once mused in the moment they'd first met. He really didn't care about it. Sure, it was nice that he didn't have a gash in his palm anymore, but that really didn't matter right now. For the first time in a long time, he didn't care about something that could, in theory, make him a_ _**lot** _ _of money. He just wanted to see her – he wanted to see that wonderstruck look in her big, green eyes, on her sweet face._

_And then, looking at her with his hand at her neck, pulling her closer, he'd realized something, asked himself a question that he never thought he would: 'What the hell am I_ _**doing** _ _with my life? I can only faintly remember the last five years or so, aside from a few of the really big jobs that I've done. It's as though I've been living in a selfish blur, trying, in vain, to reach for a level of satisfaction that can't be fulfilled. And what_ _**have** _ _I done, really? Who have I been? She, this mesmerizing girl, probably wouldn't like the person that I've been very much, if she knew of all the horrible things that I've done. But I did those things for a reason: to survive! And why do I care, anyway? Why do I care what she thinks of me? I don't care what_ _**anyone** _ _thinks of me, and I barely even know her. But with her, like this, staring at me so intently, waiting for me to kiss her, I just… do. I care, I care_ _**so** _ _much –'_

_In hindsight, Eugene realizes, he should've just asked her right then, 'Run away with me. I'll leave this life behind me, this unfulfilling life of thievery, and lies, and manipulation. We'll start over. I'll leave it all, for you. Say the word, and I'll… I'll_ _**change** _ _. It doesn't matter that I barely know you, and that you barely know me – it only matters what we feel right now, in this moment. Come away with me, and we'll figure this out together. Your clearly crazy, obsessively protective mother, my abandonment issues – my issue of wanting to be wanted. My inability to trust, to fully let someone in. You'll fix that. You'll want me, and I'll want you. None of the rest will matter. I'll have you, and you'll have me, and nothing else will matter.'_

_He should've asked her, right there on the boat. He_ _**never** _ _should have gotten off said boat, never should have followed the Stabbington's when they'd shone that lantern on the shore. They'd lured him right back into the darkness again, without him even realizing it, when he'd spent two days basking in her light. He never should have separated himself from her. He never should have left her sitting in the boat on the water's edge, with that worried look in her eye, yet so trusting and vulnerable. He never should have looked up, never should have taken his eyes from her face. He should have kissed her, and he should have gone away with her right then and there, and he should have never looked back. She'd trusted him to be her guide, and he'd guided her right into the arms of the people that would hurt her the most, and would do so without so much as a single guilty thought._

_He'd intended to get right back to her, right after giving the crown back to the Stabbington's, had intended to be back in that boat with her in no more than twenty minutes. He'd intended to get back into that boat, and kiss her, and stay with her for however long she wanted him to._

_He really had._

_But then, because he was a stupid, selfish son of a bitch, and because he deserved the karma that was coming to him, he'd been knocked out, and thrown into prison. He'd been denied as much as a trial. He'd been dragged to the gallows, knowing there was something seriously wrong going on. He'd had to accept his fate, knowing that she wasn't safe anymore, even though the Stabbington's were here in prison right along with him, facing their own fate – the fate of filling the void in your heart with things that don't belong to you. He'd had to face the fact that she was in danger, and that, in a way, it was all his fault. Because he couldn't just take her to the damn lanterns, like she'd so badly wanted. He couldn't just stick to their deal. No, he'd had to_ _**fall in love with her** _ _. He'd had to drag her into his mess. And soon, his neck was going to be hanging from a rope, and he would have no soul in his body left to save her, even if he wanted to. All he would leave her with, is a few good memories, and the aftermath of his own selfish choices. He would leave this earth with her thinking that he'd sold her out, and that thought alone was enough to make his stomach curl in on itself._

_And for what? All of this, for some stupid crown? Only to end up here, anticipating the slow drain of his own, lifeless body, when she was clearly in trouble? He'd tried so hard to fill that void in his heart before her. Why? Because he was broken. Because he was taking bigger risk upon bigger risk, because he didn't_ _**feel** _ _anything anymore. Because he'd had essentially nothing else to live for. Until now. Now… now he had_ _**her** _ _to live for, and he couldn't even do that. Because he had committed an act of such treason, that he_ _**deserved** _ _what was coming to him. He deserved that inevitable rope around his neck._

But where would they be now, if he'd asked her to run away with him on that boat, if he'd never chased after the Stabbington's, if he'd never made the grand mistake of leaving her alone on that shore? The kingdom still wouldn't have their lost princess, and with the loss of her crown, there would be no hope left to grasp onto. And the king and queen would still be utterly depressed over the loss of their precious daughter – far too depressed to care if their power was taken from them by a greedy council head over the course of nearly two decades.

And everything in Corona would've imminently fallen to shit. And it would be partly his fault.

But it wouldn't matter, because he would _be_ with her. They would be together, deep in the countryside, perhaps, hidden away in a little cottage. Or maybe, they would even settle down in the next kingdom over, a completely fresh start for the both of them. And they would grow together, and learn from each other, and make love whenever they wanted – not having to do it in secret, or having to worry about how loud they were being. She would teach him about the stars, and beat him at every game of chess, and he would teach her how to pick any kind of lock that you could ever want. They would make breakfast together, and she would paint to her heart's content. And they would have a garden, where she would grow all kinds of pretty flowers, flowers that she would braid into her hair, just like her hair had been braided with flowers on the night that they'd watched the lanterns. And, when they were ready, maybe they'd even have children. And they would laugh together, and they would cry, and they would dance in the rain, and they would watch the sun sink into the horizon together each night. And each night, she would note how every sunset is always different than the last, and he would kiss her goodnight, pulling her close. And they would be together, and he would love her more than he's ever loved anything.

And they would be happy there. Because he _still_ would've changed for her. He still would've abandoned his life as Flynn Rider, and she never would've had to meet Charles. She never would've been forced into a marriage that she didn't want, and he wouldn't have to be so damn _angry_.

That's an alternate universe in which Eugene will never see, even though a very selfish part of him wishes that he could, even for a little while – if only to humor himself and his guilty imagination. It's completely humorous that he's even mentally entertaining this alternate life for him and Rapunzel, because really, he should be dead. He shouldn't even have so much as a beating heart.

He should literally be _dead_ right now. His bones should be rotting, lying there motionless on the floor of that tower, shards of glass splayed out around him. But now, thanks to Rapunzel and her magical tears, he's living pretty in a palace, with a _very_ faint scar in his side, the size of a long, sharp blade. And he doesn't even deserve it. And he's still completely, _pathetically_ in awe of that slightly strange, utterly beautiful girl – the girl who had been so in awe of those lanterns. The girl who, quite literally, saved him. Despite this, over a year later (and in what feels like a whole other lifetime completely), Eugene sometimes still feels like he's walking to the gallows, anticipating that rope around his neck – anticipating the freefall before his life, and the few things that he's ever _really_ cared about, are ripped from his grasp just as quick as it would take for his neck to snap.

Despite the significant amount of time which has passed since he first met Rapunzel, he still has a few demons of his own to fight, and Eugene isn't entirely sure if his current strength is enough to defeat them. Mostly because the last four months were hand-delivered by the devil himself, those demons of his hell-bent on going straight for _her_. And Eugene feels completely incapable of stopping their reign of terror – not to mention, incredibly desperate to take her away from it all.

And she'd said no.

' _No, I can't run away with you.'_

Not, _'I don't want to run away with you.'_ But, _'I_ _ **can't**_ _. I can never do that, because I have a duty here. A duty, not only to my parents, but more importantly, a lifelong commitment to this entire kingdom.'_

He'd told her so himself. She was only pulling a page straight from his playbook, saying what she thought everyone would want to hear. If they were in a less painful situation, he would actually be proud of her for being so responsible, so mature. So _queen-minded_. After all, she would be queen someday, and a damn good one, at that. But he'd dug his own grave with this one, and Eugene knows it. And maybe, that's what's pissing him off most of all – that he's _really_ only angry with himself.

Eugene isn't quite sure which is worse: a straight up ' _No,_ ' or the brutal truth. The truth that she's too afraid to speak out loud, even to him: _'I'm trapped all over again, just like I was in my tower, where I had to watch you die. The tower which still gives me nightmares, and leaves me shaking and mumbling desperate pleas in my sleep. I'm completely trapped again, and this time, there's_ _ **nothing**_ _you can do to save me. Have fun drowning in your own helplessness!'_

So, he'd sent her off, away from the garden, to return to the party like nothing had ever happened. Though she'd protested, wanting to stay with him, wanting to talk about what he'd just blurted, Eugene had simply smoothed her dress, and sent her on her way. He'd suggest that they leave the garden separately, so that none of the nosy guests lingering about could catch so much as a growing suspicion that they had been together in the maze. Rapunzel had left, albeit reluctantly, with a chaste kiss goodbye, a simple ' _I'm sorry_ ,' and a depressed look in her eye that had let Eugene know that she means it. She's sorry, for their situation. And so is he, _deeply_ sorry, for asking something so silly of her – for making a request that she could never fulfill, even if she wanted to.

Eugene stands there for a while, in the middle of the maze, lost in the warmth that Rapunzel had left behind, which is fading, and fast. He sucks the chilly, night air into his lungs, trying hard to will away the dizziness that often clouds his head when he's around Rapunzel. The air is as bitter as he feels. He looks up to the night sky, and tries to count the stars for a while, tries to calm himself down. When he gets to two hundred, he stops, realizing that his nerves aren't calming in the slightest. If he could, Eugene would deck himself for the look on her face, the look of utter _sadness_ when she'd realized that she would have to decline his request – that running off together could never be a realistic option for the princess of Corona.

No one in the kingdom would really miss him, if he were to leave. But they would miss her.

He'd said it only in a moment of passion, had asked her to run away with him, only because he couldn't stand watching her with Charles anymore. The prince's empty, or potentially _not_ -so-empty (Eugene isn't sure yet), threats had shaken him to the core. Charles's words had shaken him so much so, that Eugene had felt the need to ask her something so _stupid_ , because it was just too much to bear. It was _**all**_ _too much._ Watching her with Charles, was too much. Imagining Charles's hands anywhere else on her body, anywhere _other_ than her hip, was too much. Imagining her moaning the prince's name, panting in the ragged breaths that _he_ so often drew from her, was too much. Imagining her someday having to have children with Charles… Eugene doesn't even _dare_ to take that mental path tonight, even though he knows it's completely inevitable. The people would expect successors soon. And maybe, so would Charles.

Eugene had thought about asking her that very question a million times before, a million times since she'd been forced to marry the prince. _'Run away with me,'_ he'd wanted to beg, over and over again _._ Almost as many times as he'd wanted to blurt, _'Marry me.'_ Though, in their first year together, he'd always thought that she wasn't ready for that quite yet, and he wasn't about to be the one to take her freedom too soon – the freedom that she'd only _just_ if he had to, Eugene would literally get on his knees and _beg_ her. He's thought about it enough times to know that he wouldn't be too proud of a man to do so, if push comes to shove. If running away would be the one thing that would protect her most. But most nights, Eugene has the common sense (and the guilty conscience) to know that asking such a thing of her, would only make her feel worse than they both already feel. And the last thing that he _ever_ wants, is to add to her pain. Or, to selfishly force the king and queen to suffer again, for that matter.

She'd asked him that very question, not all that long ago. _'Do you ever think about running away?'_ That night, Rapunzel had gone as far as to admit that, sometimes, she hates being the princess. Eugene, caught up in his own self-centered feelings about Rapunzel's marriage, hadn't read too far into that statement. She was just stressed about the forced marriage, still adjusting to court life, he'd assumed. Now, standing alone in the maze, feeling like nothing more than a pitiful _idiot_ , Eugene can't help but wonder if there's more to her vulnerable words than he'd originally thought.

' _What if she truly_ _ **hates**_ _being here? What if she's so miserable, that she'll never be happy again? What if she feels like no one cares? I've always thought that she was meant to be the princess, that this was her destiny. It's always been as though she were made to help people, to show compassion to her kingdom, to spread the light inside of her. These things have always come so_ _ **naturally**_ _for her. But what if she really hates it? What if her admitting such a thing wasn't just a moment of passion, a moment of frustration? What if all of this is slowly killing her, and I'm just standing by, wallowing in my own feelings like the selfish asshole that I've always been?'_

Eugene doesn't want that for her. He _loves_ her. He wants his princess to be as happy as humanly possible – at least, as happy as a young woman can possibly be while stuck in a marriage that she didn't ask for, or even remotely agree to – a marriage which haunts her like a ghost, so closely replicating that _trapped_ feeling that she'd felt for, oh, only _eighteen years._

And what has Eugene done to save her from that replica of entrapment? Nothing. _Absolutely_ _nothing_. He's just stood by and watched, as another man married the love of his life, watched another man wrap his hand around her hips, and claim her as his own to the public. And what does Eugene do? He makes love to her in secret, and steals her away for ten, stupid minutes alone in the garden, just to ask her such a _stupid_ question. Because he's selfish as hell, and isn't strong enough to stay away from her, even if _not_ staying away from her means that she could get into big trouble, if they were ever caught.

Because _that_ is what their once so beautiful, so tightknit, so _stable_ relationship has been diminished to in four, measly, _miserable_ months: ten minutes of stolen kisses, and _'I love you's,'_ and a yearning in Eugene's gut that's so deep, that he just _knows_ it will never truly be fulfilled. There's this painful longing inside of him which will never be contented, because he'll never get to make her his wife as he'd always dreamed of. She was literally his _new dream!_ Before Charles showed up, they had been setting sail on the S.S. Happily Ever After, full speed ahead. And that amazing year they'd spent together had been taken away in the blink of an eye, in the form of a nightmare, catching Eugene in his own hellish reality.

This deep yearning in the depths of Eugene's stomach, in the depths of his _heart_ , will never, ever be satisfied, no matter what he does with the rest of his life. Mostly because he'll never get to watch her walk down the aisle to him. He'll never get to take her wedding dress off and make love to her, like only a husband can to his wife. He'll never get to hear the words, _'I do,'_ or, _'I'm pregnant!'_ or, _'Hi, I'm Princess Rapunzel Fitzherbert'_ falling from her lips, in that sweet voice of 'll never get to hear any of that. And _fuck_ , is it killing him inside, more painful than the stab wound that he'd once survived.

' _Did I even deserve to survive that stab wound? Aren't I just making her life harder by being here?'_

Don't even _mention_ the very realistic notion that she will have to let go of him someday. Scratch that – don't even mention the fact that she's going to have to do all of those things with _Charles_ – like, inevitably, make love to him, and let the prince get her pregnant. Because 'the crown needs successors for the kingdom to suffice', and all of that royal _bullshit_. Don't even mention the fact that they can't do this forever, that they _won't_ do this forever, that he cannot _have her_ forever. That someday, somehow, they are going to get caught, and Eugene is going to have to leave her, no matter how much it kills him to do so – no matter how much it kills him to even _think_ about that impending day. Just like Charles had said to him earlier in the night, so hauntingly: someday, he's going to have to man up, and _let her go._

' _But how do you let go of the love of your life, without completely destroying yourself in the process?'_

But what was he _supposed_ to do, really? To save her, to save himself? Eugene had already been skating on incredibly thin ice with the council for the entirety of the twelve months that he'd been living in the palace, pre-Charles. It were as though they were _waiting_ for him to misstep. Despite _usually_ being on his best behavior, the council didn't trust Eugene, didn't trust his motives with the princess. Really, could he blame them? He'd literally committed high treason against his kingdom for his own selfish gain. And despite the king and queen's quick brand of forgiveness, what with their biased perspective, heavily watered down by the gratitude of simply having their daughter back, there were some people who couldn't. People who couldn't truly forgive him for what he'd done.

Even Stalyan can't believe that he's really changed. She truly believes that Eugene _must_ be here for any reason _other_ than the fact that he's head-over-heels in love with Rapunzel. That he _must_ be plotting some grand scheme. That might have more to do with Stalyan's personal denial than anything, but it still forces Eugene's ego to take a reasonably hard hit.

And yeah, Flynn Rider, without a shadow of a doubt, _would_ have done that. If it were an option, in some alternate universe, he definitely would have coerced the princess into trusting him, gotten her into his bed, just to steal something incredibly valuable from her and subsequently disappear without a trace.

If that princess wasn't Rapunzel.

But Eugene is _not_ that man anymore, not by a long shot. He's no longer the same man who would commit such a crime, and not even think to double check his moral compass. He's no longer the same man who would steal the lost princess's crown for a pretty cut of the check, despite all that crown had stood for – he'd stolen the hope that it had given to the king and queen, and to the kingdom. The hope that someday, their lost princess would return. And, at the time, he hadn't even felt bad about it. No, Eugene isn't that self-absorbed man anymore, only looking out for his own desires. Now, he's the man who would protect that lost princess with his dying breath, the man who would seek out the head of any other man who would dare to touch her in the wrong way.

But the council doesn't know that. The council doesn't know that Eugene would never willingly do anything to jeopardize a future with her – a chance to make her his wife, and the mother of his future children, and the most adored woman in the world. So, they'd forced the poor girl to marry a prince from far away, a man that she didn't even know. A prince who doesn't know her like the back of his hand like Eugene does, a prince who will never _love her_ like he does – a prince who will never be everything that she needs.

It _kills_ Eugene to know that. To know that, when he inevitably is forced to leave someday, she will probably always have that same, endless yearning inside of her that only he can fulfill, but will never have the chance to. It kills him to know that she might spend the rest of her life unhappy. It kills Eugene even _more_ to know that, someday, Rapunzel very well might find a way to be _happy_ with Charles. Because really, her two options are that, or eternal misery. Its either force herself to fake happiness with Charles, and pray that it eventually becomes real, or have to find ways to sneak into Eugene's bed nearly every night without her husband noticing – and they surely can't keep that up for the rest of their lives.

Eugene doesn't want that life for her. He doesn't want her to be miserable – if he could, he would bear all of her misery onto himself. He doesn't want her to have to grovel for a life with him, a life that must always remain well-hidden. Someone as special as Rapunzel deserves far better than that. But he definitely doesn't want her to be happy with Charles, as selfish as it is. _He_ wants to be the man who makes her happy. And yet, when Rapunzel had suggested it those weeks ago, Eugene had gently rejected her idea of running away. He'd momentarily convinced her that here, in the kingdom, with her parents, acting as the princess, is where Rapunzel is _meant_ to be.

And he'd meant it, then. Eugene had admitted that, yes, running away with her is something that has crossed his mind before, but that it's something they could never, ever do. It was more of a pipedream, than anything else, the way he'd put it to her that night. He'd promised Rapunzel that they would ' _Figure it out,_ ' that he would ' _Do whatever he has to do'_ to be with her. Even if 'being with her' is only in secret, for however long they can realistically manage to keep that explosive, ticking time bomb of a secret hidden.

' _What the hell is there to figure out? She's married to another man, and at some point, something's_ _ **got**_ _to give. Someone is going to see us fooling around, or hear her moaning my name a little too loudly, or notice the flush of her cheeks after she's disappeared for an hour. Someone is going to see us talking earnestly outside my bedroom, or in the garden, just like we were no more than twenty minutes ago. Just like we were, before I sent her back inside, looking like a wounded puppy. And it's all_ _ **my**_ _fault that she feels that way! Because I'd been selfish enough to ask something of her that she has no choice but to say no to – something that she yearns for, just as much as I do, but can't have. The guilt was written all over her face. Why am I such an_ _ **asshole**_ _? I_ _ **seriously**_ _don't deserve her now, if I ever did before!'_

Now, Eugene is standing here alone, in the maze, kicking himself profusely for making her feel bad, for sending her back inside on such a tense, awkward note, and selfishly wishing that the only place Rapunzel was 'meant' to be, is with him. Eugene is starting to feel a little pitiful, a little fuzzy around the edges from the drinks he'd downed when the party had first started, and a little like he needs his ego stroked.

A _lot_ like he needs his ego stroked.

And Flynn Rider would've given in to that feeling without so much as a second thought, would've gone off and found some random girl to stroke his ego (and to stroke some other _highly-adept_ parts of him). After all, there's probably dozens of girls inside the palace at this very moment, hungry and willing to please a man like him. But Eugene doesn't _want_ that. He doesn't want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

He just wants _her_. Every piece of her, every piece that's been fractured by the last four months – every single one of her broken pieces, which filters the warm light that's still inside of her. He wants all of it: that short, choppy hair of hers, the hair that _he'd_ given her, and her laugh, and her strange resemblance to pure sunshine. He wants to get down on one knee, and devote himself to her and to her happiness. He wants a little girl that runs around and looks just like her, and calls him ' _Daddy_.' Eugene had _never_ wanted to be a parent before he met her. Actually, he'd once deliberately sworn to himself, what with his orphaned childhood, that he would never have children, if he could help it. So, why does he suddenly want to be a father so overwhelmingly?

Because it's her that would make him one.

Rapunzel is all that he's _ever_ wanted, since that night when they'd watched the lanterns light the night sky together. And Eugene is starting to get really _fed up_ with the universe and it's sick, karmic sense of humor, because he honestly doesn't feel like that's too much to ask. He knows that he's done a lot of shitty things to deserve a shitty life, like leaving a girl at the altar, committing treason against his own kingdom, and being generally selfish and untrustworthy. But Eugene changed _–_ he changed for _her_. And he'd like to believe, just like anyone else, that he deserves a chance at the whole 'happily ever after thing.' He was _given_ a second chance, and he's finally found the one person who truly loves him for who he is, the one person who would never abandon him.

And the universe just takes it away? It feels to Eugene like he's getting yanked around like a ragdoll mercilessly, like that perfect year together had just been some sick joke made by the universe, as if to say, _'Ha! You_ _ **really**_ _thought that someone like you would be able to hold onto someone like_ _ **her**_ _?'_

All Eugene really wants is to look at her and be able to say, ' _That's my wife._ ' He wants to grow old with her, watch her age with pure grace, like he already knows she will. He wants to sleep beside her every night, and not have to wake her before the sun comes up. Just so she can sneak back to her own bedroom, where her _husband_ sleeps, in the bed that she's expected to share with the prince – in the bed that she will someday be expected to give all of herself to him in. Eugene wants to feel her limbs wrapped snuggly around him, to feel her mouth upon his own, kissing away every last pang of pathetic longing, and yearning, and desire. He needs her to love him so hard, that every sharp feeling of pure _hurt_ that's shooting through his heart right now, simply disappears, if only for tonight.

Is that really so much to ask for?

But that can't happen. At least, not right now. His ego will have to wait. Because she has a party to attend, guests that are waiting for her, and a kingdom that will _always_ need her.

Just not as much as he needs her.

* * *

Rapunzel doesn't return to the party right away after returning inside from the garden. She knows that she probably should, knows that Charles very well might come looking for her. She's been gone much longer than it typically takes to simply run to the powder room.

But she can't. She can't go back, not yet. She needs a moment alone, a moment to herself to think, to recuperate. A moment to get her head right after Eugene's surprising statement. A moment to figure out how she's possibly going to go back into that ballroom, look Charles in the eye, and pretend that Eugene hadn't just said to her:

' _Run away with me.'_

Because, _God_ , does she want to. She's never wanted anything so much in nineteen years. Rapunzel wants this even more than she'd wanted to leave her tower or see the lanterns. This want, this deep, unshakable desire to be with Eugene, and Eugene alone, runs far deeper than all of that ever had. And the whole lantern thing had run incredibly deep within her. Eighteen _years_ deep.

Will she have to want what she can't have for the next eighteen years?

The heavy-hearted princess wanders through the empty hallways, lost in a random wing of the castle, far from the grand ballroom – a wing that she doesn't visit very often. Right now, she wants nothing more than a few moments of quiet, a few moments to wallow and to be angry – something that she doesn't allow herself to do as often as she probably should for her own mental wellbeing. Instead, Rapunzel is notorious for shoving everything down, in a bout of learned passive aggression, so far down her own throat that she can't even breathe. She so often does this, instead of allowing herself to momentarily wallow in this frustrating situation, as most healthy, normal people would do from time to time. Instead, she pretends. She plasters a smile on her face, plays the role that everyone needs her to play, and acts like her life isn't completely falling apart at the seams.

Rapunzel had wanted to stay with Eugene, there in the peaceful garden in the radiant moonlight, so reminiscent of the Christmas Eve night they'd spent together last year. She would've stayed there with him forever, if he'd given her the option. But Eugene had gently pushed her in the right direction with a quick kiss, telling her that she should get back inside before Charles comes searching for her, telling her that her guests probably miss her already.

But Rapunzel doesn't care, not right now. She _can't_ care. Not about Charles, not about her guests. Not about anything. If she's in the ballroom, with the loud violins playing, and the many, resounding voices speaking in methods of pointless small talk around her, she won't be able to think. She can't think about any of that, can't think about her responsibility as a princess. Not after Eugene's passionate request. Not when the _only_ thing that she cares about right now is him, and his desires, and his mutually unconditional love for her.

Not when the only thing she can think about, is how she would rather die than go on without him.

And what had she done? She'd shot him down. She'd said _no_. Mostly because that's what Rapunzel was _supposed_ to say – what her parents would expect of her, what her kingdom would expect of her. Her parents couldn't bear to lose her, Rapunzel knows that. It would be so, utterly cruel to make them live without her again, after finally getting her back. It would be cruel to run off and not consider the brokenness that would surely ensue in her parent's hearts. She knows that she can't put the king and queen through that pain of losing a child all over again, that crippling worry and gut-wrenching depression. She can't willingly, _selfishly_ , put her kingdom through another era of despair, tarnishing all sense of hope and prosperity to the wind. But isn't it just as cruel to expect her to live without Eugene?

She can't become the lost princess… _again_. No matter how badly she wants to, sometimes.

Rapunzel feels a distinct ache in her stomach as she wanders through the dead halls. Everyone but her, clearly, is at the party, cashing in on the banquet of expensive food and free alcohol. This feeling which washes over the princess now, is a feeling of wretched guilt, sorrow, bitterness, and anxiety, all wrapped up together in a tight knot in the pit of her belly. She feels like a coward, like a shell of the brave woman she'd once been, when she'd first escaped her tower. It were as though, at some point in the last four months, her courageous spirit had simply stood up and walked away. Now, all Rapunzel feels is a sudden, aching need to be comforted, to be sheltered by his body – a deep urge to feel his skin against hers, to feel her legs shake around him, to hear him whisper _'I love you'_ in her ear, over and over again.

A deep urge to have the pain nursed away, in the special way that only Eugene could comfort her. A deep urge to be reassured: _'I still love you, even though you can't give me what I need from you right now. Even though you can't leave with me.'_

Why did he have to ask her that, to run away with him? He had to know that she would have to say no. He _had_ to know that, didn't he? Asking this of her had been like some cruel, sick joke – one that Rapunzel knows Eugene hadn't _meant_ to be cruel – though, it still feels like it is. Doesn't he know that she wants _nothing_ more than to be with him? Doesn't he know that she would run away with him in a heartbeat if she could, that she would leave this life behind – the expensive clothes, the balls, the adoring subjects, the _crown_ – for him? But she can't do that, she can't just walk away. She can't, because she's the princess. And to run away, to leave her people in despair, would make her the least trustworthy, most selfish princess of all time. And to be selfish just isn't in Rapunzel's nature.

And she _hates_ it! Oh, does she hate it. Right now, Rapunzel hates being the princess, with a detestment that is deep and true. She hates that she cares so much about her parents, so much about her kingdom. If she simply didn't _care_ so much, she wouldn't be too afraid to run away with Eugene. But it's engrained in her to care for others – it's not something in which she can wake up one day, and easily decide not to do anymore. And Rapunzel hates herself for that; she hates herself for her deep-set willingness to place everyone's needs before her own. She's a people-pleaser. She has been since being in the tower with Gothel – _because_ of being in the tower with Gothel. Now, the young princess isn't quite sure how to stop seeking validation from just about everyone, and it feels like she can't please _anyone_ anymore. _Especially_ not Eugene. Rapunzel hates herself for that most of all.

Even more so, she hates being married. Rapunzel hates everything that comes with it: Charles, and his stiff movements, and his hard gazes which appear to see right through you. She hates that she has to attend every party with Charles on her arm, being introduced as his _wife_ , when she wasn't supposed to be anyone's wife someday other than Eugene's. Rapunzel hates that she's stalking around the castle alone, when she could be with him. She could be alone _with_ Eugene. But instead, Rapunzel is half-heartedly avoiding some stupid party that her husband had surprisingly thrown for her – a party that she didn't want, thrown by a _husband_ that she didn't want.

And the kicker of it all is, _she_ had asked Eugene that very same question before, not all that long ago! _She_ had asked Eugene if he'd ever thought about running away with her. And he'd admitted that, yes, he had thought about it, but that they _never_ could. Because she's the princess, and she has a responsibility to her kingdom, and that her parents need her to be right here, with them, forever. He'd convinced her that her responsibility was here, that her _destiny_ was here.

But what if Rapunzel's destiny isn't set anywhere in particular? What if her fate is simply placed wherever Eugene is?

And the worst part is, she'd _believed_ him! Rapunzel had accepted that Eugene was right, that his judgement was always best, that he was much older. Six years older, six years wiser. Which means that he's far more experienced in relationships, and probably knows how to handle this situation better than she could alone. She'd trusted his judgement that seeing out her marriage with Charles was the right thing to do, the _morally correct_ thing to do, and that it was what her kingdom expected of her for its own economic prosperity. She and Eugene had convinced one another that, if they have to sneak around forever, then so be it. And that was all fine and dandy. Stressful, with the constant fear of getting caught, but fine and dandy, nonetheless, because they still had each other. Sneaking around is the far better alternative to losing one another suddenly and permanently – neither one of them could bear that.

But _now_ he wants to ask her to run away? When Eugene _knows_ that she would have to say no? After they'd _just_ gotten back on track, after that explosive argument they'd had about Stalyan barely two weeks ago? After Eugene had convinced the princess that _this_ is where she's meant to be, right here in the kingdom, he wants to ask her to run off with him?

' _Well, maybe I don't_ _ **want**_ _to be right here! Maybe I'm not_ _ **really**_ _cut out to be a princess! Maybe I'm sick and tired of the balls, and the hundreds of guests that I will never be able to remember all the names of. Maybe I'm sick of the big dresses, and the corsets that are way too tight, and the crown resting heavily on my head like a weight, like a guilty conscience. Maybe I'm tired of looking at that crown, and all that it stands for, all that it symbolizes in my journey of getting to this moment – all that it symbolizes for Eugene and I's relationship, back when we were actually together and_ _ **happy**_ _._

_Maybe I'm tired of the noblemen who look me up and down, like I'm a prize to be won! Maybe I'm sick of Charles, and sick of being his wife. I don't even know_ _**how** _ _to be a wife. I'm only nineteen, and I spent my entire life in a_ _**tower** _ _! No one prepared me for this! And I would've loved to learn how to be a wife someday, with_ _**Eugene** _ _. But that will never happen, not now! I don't even want to_ _**try** _ _to learn anymore, not with Charles. I didn't ask for this, for any of this!_

_When is it going to be my turn to be happy? When is it going to be my turn to stop feeling so used, so utterly_ _**trapped** _ _? That's all I've ever felt, is trapped, in my own life! I was a pawn for Gothel to play with, and now I'm a pawn for my own kingdom, a bargaining chip to be used to secure ally-ships with other kingdoms! So, when is it going to be my turn to choose my own fate? I thought that my life was finally beginning. A perfect life with Eugene. But that life, that new dream,_ _**everything** _ _– it was all just ripped away, and no one even_ _**asked** _ _what_ _**I** _ _wanted. And now, Eugene, without warning, wants to ask me to –'_

"Why the long face, Princess?"

Rapunzel looks up suddenly, realizing that she's been walking the empty hall with her eyes on her bare feet, angrily staring down at them, disoriented by her own raging thoughts.

So, _this_ is the one other soul in the castle who _isn't_ at the party. And maybe Eugene, if he's not still standing sadly in the gardens where Rapunzel had left him, when she'd had to mercilessly shoot down his new dream.

The princess sighs heavily, rubbing a tired hand across her face, preparing herself for an imminent tongue-lashing and an attack on her ego from Stalyan – both of which Rapunzel is definitely _not_ in the mood for tonight. Well, even less than usual.

"None of your business." Rapunzel grumbles, turning away from Stalyan. The Baron's daughter will inevitably bring up Eugene – _Flynn_ – and hearing his old moniker greedily falling from Stalyan's mouth, just isn't something that Rapunzel can handle right now.

But Stalyan only hurries down the hallway to catch up to the princess, in a foul mood herself, still not over the last conversation that she'd had with Flynn – not over the way that he'd so harshly spoken to her, the way that he'd professed his 'undying love' for the princess. Jealousy has reared its ugly head, and Stalyan is just so _lucky_ to have run into the princess, when she was in such a pitiful mood herself.

Stalyan steps in front of Rapunzel, blocking her from moving down the hallway any further.

"Trouble in paradise?" Stalyan asks sweetly, that ever-present, mischievous look in her eye.

"You would know what _that_ looks like, wouldn't you?" Rapunzel mumbles under her breath, trying her best to sidestep the Baron's daughter, but doing so unsuccessfully.

Typically, Rapunzel wouldn't speak so bluntly. Typically, she tries her very best to be kind to everyone that she meets, even the people that she doesn't like very much. This includes Stalyan, if only because Rapunzel knows exactly what it feels like to have someone _not_ be very kind to you. The princess has experienced a lot of that in her young life, enough to realize the long-lasting effects of emotional and verbal abuse. Despite this, Rapunzel has fallen headfirst into a completely sour mood, and she just doesn't have the energy to hide it right now. Especially not from a provoking Stalyan.

Stalyan only laughs, that coy expression which so often graces her face crossing it now, though her violet eyes appear to darken considerably.

"You know, Princess, you look like a little, lost puppy. Like someone stomped on your tail." Stalyan smirks, crossing her arms over her chest in a manner of obvious pride. "You kind of look like you just got _rejected_ for the first time."

' _No, I had to reject_ _ **him**_ _. Not that I wanted to! I_ _ **really**_ _didn't want to. If I could, I would find him right now, and I would run away with him tonight –'_

For the first time, Rapunzel, wrapped tightly in her own anxious thoughts, feels no need to worry about the consequences of her words in this tension-filled moment, on this tension-filled night.

"No, Stalyan, I didn't get _rejected_. Because unlike you, Eugene actually _wants_ me."

Stalyan doesn't say anything right away. She simply drops her eyes up and down the princess's body, a _very_ small smile tugging at her lips. Stalyan reaches out to smooth down a sleeve on Rapunzel's dress, if only to knowingly fuel the fire of that one, bravely suggestive comment.

"You know, I'd _love_ to remember what he tastes like." There's that sly flicker in her eye again, that slight shift in her tone which drips of sex appeal, as Stalyan leans unbearably close. "Not that you ever _really_ forget a man who fucks you like he does. _You_ would know, wouldn't you, Princess?"

Rapunzel shoves her hand away, fuming at Stalyan's incredibly intimate comment. Well, the princess should've seen that coming, she reasons with herself. The two young women are provoking one another shamelessly, clearly catching the other in a particularly sensitive moment. Rapunzel's words are icy and cold as they leave her lips, colder than she'd ever thought her own voice to be capable of. The princess is desperate to match Stalyan's easy bravado, her tone of voice as bitter as she feels.

"You will never touch him again. _Ever_."

"See, that's what you think. But maybe… maybe he _wants_ to be touched. Did you ever think of that?" Stalyan circles Rapunzel as she speaks, as though tormenting her prey, before ripping it into a million pieces. "Maybe that innocent, inexperienced little mouth of yours… just doesn't _do it_ for him."

' _She's just trying to get in your head, she's just trying to get in your head. I seriously don't have time for this, let alone the_ _ **patience**_ _for this tonight. Eugene just asked me to_ _ **run**_ _ **away with him**_ _, and I had to say no. I had to say no, because I am the princess! The last thing that I need right now, is Stalyan egging me on, making me wonder if Eugene would still want her, given the chance!'_

"No, Stalyan, that's what I _know_. He's not going to let you get close to him. Don't forget, that you are in my home, in my kingdom." The princess takes a sure step forward, pausing Stalyan from her tactical circling. Rapunzel measures her courage, realizing that she has just enough for what she's about to say. "And that… _he was never in love with you_."

The words leave Rapunzel's mouth, and she immediately regrets them, watching as Stalyan's chest momentarily deflates. But she bounces back quickly, squaring her shoulders, though Stalyan's expression has gone positively sour, not even bothering to mask her rage behind a sly smile anymore.

' _I can't believe I just said that. I shouldn't have said that. It's not her fault that I'm so angry right now, not really. It's not really her fault that Eugene doesn't want to be here anymore, and that I can never go with him. I should apologi –'_

"Oh, yeah? Is that what he told you?" The Baron's daughter steps forward herself, reaching out to shove Rapunzel at the shoulder, hard.

' _This little spoiled, condescending bitch is going to get what's coming to her._ '

"You know, I'd _watch it_ , if I were you. What do you think your _husband_ would say if he heard about all of this? Don't forget, Rapunzel, that I know _everything_."

Stalyan has never simply called Rapunzel by her first name before, only ever snidely addressing her as 'Princess.' Something about her name coming from Stalyan's lips feels demeaning, as though it were meant to be an insult of sorts.

"Hey —"

Rapunzel stumbles back a bit in the wake of Stalyan's shove, but she thankfully doesn't fall, catching herself quickly. Stalyan moves claustrophobically close, and Rapunzel can smell the faintest whiff of alcohol on her breath. She shoves Rapunzel at the shoulder again, a bit more forcefully this time. But this time, Rapunzel sees it coming.

"Come on, Princess. Won't you fight for him? Won't you fight for your _precious_ little fairytale? Because I sure as hell would. I will _fight_ for that man. Will you?" Stalyan sneers, her eyes burning.

She reaches out to shove the princess one more time, before Rapunzel grabs hold of Stalyan's wrist, mid-shove, pushing the Baron's daughter back.

"I'm not going to fight you, Stalyan."

"Why not?" Stalyan demands, leaning in again, speaking close to the princess's face, deep-seated jealousy and resentment dripping almost tangibly from her lips. "Isn't he worth it?"

A look of sudden realization soon crosses her face, and Stalyan juts her bottom lip in mock sympathy.

"Wait a minute… you're just _scared,_ aren't you? Oh, you poor thing. Did all those years locked away in a tower make you such a _coward?_ "

Rapunzel gauges Stalyan's harsh comment, allowing it to soak deep into her bones for a long moment, allowing the rage of their deliverer to soak right along with it.

' _That's it. I don't need this. I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't ask for Charles to be here, I didn't ask for this marriage. I didn't ask for Stalyan to be here, pushing my buttons, trying to steal away the man that I love! I didn't ask to become this… this_ _ **shell**_ _of the strong, sure women that I've worked so hard to be for a_ _ **year**_ _after escaping my tower. All that I've ever wanted is Eugene! He_ _ **is**_ _worth it – he is worth everything. Well, no more. No more shrinking back, no more simply accepting things for what they are. If she wants me to fight for him, then fine. I will.'_

" _Ugh_!" Rapunzel lunges forward, pushed to the edge, tumbling far down into the abyss of pure rage, taking Stalyan's hair right down with her. "Leave. Eugene. _Alone!_ "

The two women tumble to the floor with a hard _THUNK_ , and Stalyan easily rolls a completely furious, though lightweight, Rapunzel. Stalyan swiftly pins the princess's arms to the floor, straddling her middle.

"Come on, _Princess_." Stalyan leers snidely from above, chuckling darkly. "You're going to have to be a _lot_ faster than that. Flynn likes a girl who knows how to get the job done _quickly_."

_"His name... is... EUGENE!"_

Mustering all of her strength in the midst of the struggle, Rapunzel brings her knee upward, delivering a moderate blow to Stalyan's rib cage. The Baron's daughter breathes in sharply, a clench of the teeth, but she isn't pushed off of Rapunzel's body completely, just momentarily distracted. The princess thrashes hard against Stalyan's steady hands, which are harshly squeezing her wrists, going in for another jab to Stalyan's slender side.

"Rapunzel? _Rapunzel!_ "

Both girls whip their gaze upward, freezing against one another, looking to the end of the hallway where the sudden, third voice is coming from. _That's_ when Eugene rushes down the hall, ripping Stalyan from the princess, who stumbles to the side. He takes Rapunzel into his arms, lifting her from the ground as though she were light as a feather, immediately putting a healthy distance between Stalyan and the heaving princess. Stalyan watches as Eugene places a hand to either side of the princess's face, looking her over with the genuine concern of a lover, dragging his hands down her sides in a hasty examination. Overlooking on the intimate moment, only causes Stalyan's rage to boil and bubble over.

When Eugene determines that his princess is okay, free from any obvious bruising or marks, he turns to Stalyan, his eyes narrowed in a violent glare.

"What the _fuck_ , Stalyan?" Eugene exclaims, the anger clearly visible on his handsome face. "I thought I told you to _stay away from her!_ "

"What? The bitch lunged at me!" Stalyan crosses her arms, smirking slightly, though there's a clear fire still burning in her eyes. "I didn't do anything."

_"That. Is not. What happened!"_

With a furious huff, Rapunzel tries to rush from Eugene's arms, intending to make a bee line straight for Stalyan, not really sure what she would even _do_ when she _gets_ to Stalyan. Rapunzel is strong, regarding her petite frame, considerably nimble and quick. But clearly, Stalyan is the far more experienced hand-to-hand fighter, after years of working under the valiant hand of her father on the shadiest of thieving jobs. Despite this, Rapunzel is convinced that her current level of anger from the _many_ stress-induced moments of this one, incredibly hellish night, very well might provide her with the upper hand.

But before Rapunzel has the chance to get away, Eugene holds her back, wrapping his arms around her front, pressing Rapunzel's back tightly against his chest. He looks again to Stalyan with an icy glare, but addresses the irate princess in his arms.

"Okay, Blondie, that's enough of that —"

"Yeah, _Blondie_."

' _What a_ _ **stupid**_ _nickname. She doesn't even have blonde hair!'_

Rapunzel thrashes in Eugene arms, ready to prove her strength to a smug Stalyan.

' _If only I had my frying pan._ _ **That**_ _would show her good.'_

"No! Let go! She called me a coward, so let me show her just how much that's _not true!_ "

"I don't think that's such a good —"

"Let me go, Eugene! _Let. Me. Go!_ "

Rapunzel continues to thrash and swivel in Eugene's arms, but there's no use in fighting his tight grasp on her. It's not that he doesn't believe in her surprising strength – he's been the receiver of the frying pan's wrath and Rapunzel's steady swing more than once. Regardless, Eugene knows how dirty of a fighter Stalyan really is, and he's not about to willingly stand by and watch Rapunzel get hurt, even if she's completely capable of defending herself. Usually, he wouldn't deny her of that independence. But right now, Eugene is far too provoked, too stressed out, and too pissed off himself (thanks to the conversation he'd had with Charles earlier in the night), to care about Rapunzel's ego in the strained moment.

"Yeah, _Eugene_. Let her go!" Stalyan tries to persuade him, always playing devil's advocate, genuinely convinced that she's the superior fighter, and ultimately guaranteed to win. "I'd _love_ to see what the princess is really made of!"

Dragging Rapunzel along with him, as though something has snapped deep inside of him, the princess still wrapped up firmly in his arms, Eugene suddenly steps very close to Stalyan. The two are so close, in fact, that their faces are only mere inches apart. The princess has her head tucked safely under his chin, watching the ex-lovers intently and shrinking back into Eugene, as if _he's_ not the one to be afraid of in this moment.

' _Well, I was right about one thing.'_ Stalyan muses to herself. _'The princess_ _ **is**_ _nothing but a coward. Always letting_ _ **someone else**_ _protect her.'_

Looking Stalyan straight in the eye, Eugene's voice is more threatening than either of the two women have ever heard it before, low and dark. And they've both experienced an irate Eugene, an annoyed Flynn Rider – but nothing like the look on his face now, the deep warning in his tone.

"I want you to listen to me, Stalyan. I know that's not your strong suit, but really try, just this once." Eugene takes in a shaky breath, and Stalyan does too, intimidated by him for the first time in her life — though she wouldn't dare admit it.

"If you ever lay so much as a _finger_ on her again, I swear... no, I _promise_ … I will _personally_ come after you. And I can guarantee that you won't fucking like it."

Then, Eugene simply walks away. He turns, carrying Rapunzel along with him, still wrapped protectively in his arms, just in case she finds it wise to lunge at Stalyan again. And Stalyan, mouth gaping, can only stand there and watch as they leave, completely dumbfounded in the wake of his aggressive response.

"Are you okay?" Stalyan faintly hears him ask the princess when they're far down the hall. Rapunzel only nods, tucking her head further into his neck, before they disappear around the corner.

And in that moment, Stalyan, without so much as a warning, is hit with the hard truth – a truth that she's _never_ wanted to face, a truth that he'd all but pleaded with her to accept: Flynn really _does_ love the princess, and passionately. It's not just some big rouse, Stalyan realizes. This isn't some ploy to steal something that's worth a lot of money from the royal family, as she'd once firmly convinced herself. Stalyan knows now, knows that Flynn's love for the princess is undeniable.

Because he's _never_ protected _her_ like that. Not even once.

And suddenly, Stalyan is finally standing at a crossroads with reality, a reality so painful that her chest threatens to cave in on itself. All those rumors had been true. He's still here, living in the castle, because _he's in love with the princess._

A lot more than he'd ever loved her.

**AN: Oooh, Eugene the** _**protector** _ **. We all know that Rapunzel can protect herself just fine, but our man means business, now. Also, he's super pissed off, not only because of Stalyan and Charles's behavior on this stress-induced night, but because he can't just run away with Rapunzel – he has to deal with situations like this, instead. He's not putting up with Stalyan and her games anymore, and he's made that pretty clear now. But will Stalyan still stick around anyway? Will she seek out revenge on the princess? At least she's not** _**completely** _ **in denial about Eugene's genuine love for Rapunzel anymore. Unfortunately, she had to realize that the hard way.**

**Tune in to Chapter 17 to find out what happens next!**


	18. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello, readers! I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season, however you may celebrate. Today's featured song is Lover of Mine by 5 Seconds of Summer. It's one of those songs that just feels meant for New Dream, especially when regarding this storyline. It has this darker mood that sets the scene for what's to come in the next few chapters.
> 
> I hope that you enjoy this chapter, which has a hard M rating. And no, I don't regret anything. This is a long one, but an important chapter to the plot, as well, so hang in there. This was one of my favorite chapters to write, and I actually gave myself butterflies.

**Chapter 17: Lead to Where Your Secrets Are, Where We've Been a Thousand Times**

_When I take a look at my life and all of my crimes_

_You're the only thing that I think I got right_

_I'll never give you away_

_'Cause I've already made that mistake…_

After checking her over about a hundred times for any apparent, purple bruises, Eugene had walked Rapunzel most of the way back to her own bedroom, in fear that the princess would run into Stalyan alone again. He was still visibly angry about the behavior of the Baron's daughter, and about whatever Charles had said to him at the party, but he was clearly trying his best not to show it in front of her. Eugene didn't even bring up the whole 'running away' thing again, so Rapunzel doesn't either.

She'd wanted to beg him to let her stay the night, to let her explain her answer – that her sense of duty to her country and to her parents, is too overbearing to simply set down and walk away from. But Eugene had vaguely reasoned that it had been a long night for the both of them. It would be best, he'd said, if they got some rest without potentially getting themselves into a third high-stress situation in one night. Although it killed him to send her back to the room that she shares with Charles, Eugene had simply kissed her on the forehead, mumbled good night, and gently nudged her in the direction of her bedroom.

Rapunzel walks tentatively down the candlelit corridor, looking back to Eugene, not wanting to be away from him. He's standing there, watching her go, arms crossed in the manner of a man who is completely fed up with the world. Regardless, he gives her a little smile and an encouraging nod, as if to say, _'Go on, it's okay. This is just for tonight.'_ It takes everything in the princess not to run back into his arms, but she doesn't.

Turning forward again, Rapunzel wonders to herself, _'Is he upset with me for not running away with him?'_ No, Eugene doesn't seem mad _at her_ , exactly. Deep down, they both know that leaving the kingdom would be an unrealistic solution to their current predicament – that running away from their problems, wouldn't _solve_ their problems. All running away would do, is hurt more people, people that they care about.

No more than fifteen minutes ago in his bedroom, Eugene had been no less tender and gentle with Rapunzel than usual, not at all projecting his anger with Stalyan or Charles onto the shook up princess. No, this unusual bout of disconnection in his eyes, this... _offness_ in his demeanor... it isn't directed at her. This... this is something else. This is stress, guilt, the slight twinge of possessiveness that doesn't occur within him very often.

This is fear. Eugene is _afraid_ of something. She could see it in his eyes when he let go of her hand, could feel it in his kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering a little longer than usual. Which, in turn, leaves _Rapunzel_ feeling afraid, because Eugene doesn't frequently become genuinely scared. A lot of the time, _he's_ the strong one. He's the one who locks his own fear away, so that she feels safe enough to deal with hers. But this… this is fear in his eyes if she's ever seen it.

Eugene, always a bright character, never remains upset for very long. He's known to have a flair for the dramatics, but typically doesn't hold onto those dramatized feelings for extended periods. Which is why this stressed out, off-putting mood of his, only results in Rapunzel feeling worried about her love, a bitter taste left on her tongue as she reluctantly treads back to her own bedroom.

When Rapunzel pushes back the heavy doors, Charles is waiting there for her, and the princess silently prays that this impossibly terrible night isn't about to get much worse. She looks back to the end of the hallway, ready to run to Eugene, but he's already gone. He'd probably assumed that Charles would be partying well into the night, as the prince often does when the palace hosts an event. Rapunzel herself had silently hoped that Charles would still be at the party, as she'd been able to hear the loud music and muffled voices traveling through the halls while walking along with Eugene. The party would most likely continue on for a while, well into the next morning. Palace parties always seem to flow on forever, like a river of champagne which has no end.

The princess cringes when she sees her husband sitting there on the edge of the bed, hunched over in the darkness. The only light filtering into the vast room, is the illumination of the giant moon shining in through the balcony doors. Rapunzel stares at the moon through the windows for a long moment, noting that it's the same moon which she'd admired from the garden earlier in the night. It feels as though being in the maze with Eugene had occurred in a different night entirely.

Rapunzel tentatively steps closer to the bed, though Charles doesn't look up at her right away.

"Where have you been?" He asks simply, his voice gravely and hard, laced with accusation, eyes glaring at the floor.

"I-I just needed some air. I wasn't feeling well, and –"

"Bullshit."

Rapunzel takes a small step back, realizing that he's probably drunk, that his words are slightly delayed. His head hands between his legs, as though his neck isn't strong enough to support the weight of his skull.

"Excuse me?"

Charles finally looks up at her, his eyes ringed with the red, alcohol-induced halos of falling into self-pity just a little too fast. He looks like a wreck, like a ship which came upon the shore a bit too soon – a far cry from his typically regal, well-groomed self, and Rapunzel concludes that she barely recognizes him.

Though, she never _really_ knew him to begin with. Maybe that's why the indicting look in the prince's eyes, and the barring of his teeth, don't bother her as much as they probably should.

"You heard me. It's bullshit. It's all… just… _bullshit_."

Distain drips from the young prince's lips, drenched in the aftertaste of the strong liquid that he'd stalked to the kitchens to find earlier in the night. He'd been desperate to escape the prying eyes of the hundreds of guests who didn't realize that the princess had gone missing – and that a particular ex-thief was missing, as well.

But he did. He noticed.

And if Charles has to be miserable and embarrassed, then she does, too. That's what they'd promised to one another in their vows, isn't it? _'For better or for worse?'_ Thus far, their marriage seems to be exemplifying the _'for worse'_ part of the deal.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean –"

Charles stares at his wife for a long, uncomfortable moment. His steely gaze is enough to cut her off, stealing the words right from her mouth, forcing them to hang in the air between them awkwardly.

"The parties! The guests! The guests in which we pretend that we are _happily married_ to. The guests that we _lie_ to the faces of!"

His voice is rising steadily, and Rapunzel's eyes fall to the floor, as though she were a child being disciplined. Charles stands from the bed, looming over her like a displeased parent.

"It's all _bullshit_. And I can't keep pretending anymore. I _won't_."

"Neither can I." Rapunzel whispers, more to her feet than to anyone else, though Charles doesn't seem to hear her.

Doesn't he notice? Hasn't he noticed _anything_ in the past four months since they've known one another? Doesn't he see all of the smiles that she fakes, the dull emotion of her face when she's around him, the way that her heart is completely shattered on the floor at their feet, all because _he can't be the man that she needs him to be?_ Because this man before her, this _prince_ , this prince that so many young women would kill to be with… will never be a handsome, charming rogue who once climbed her tower, and made her fall so in love, that she feels as though she's never known a life without him, and never wants to.

Charles suddenly takes the young princess by the hand, closing the uncomfortable distance between them, though she keeps her eyes glued to the floor.

"I'm in love with you, Rapunzel. Don't you get that? Don't you _see_ that? Don't you see how I feel about you? It feels like... it feels like you're not even _trying_ here. Not even a little! It's been four months, and I have fallen in love with you. And all you have done, is push me to the side as though I were nothing! As though I didn't give up _plenty_ to marry you, as well!"

Rapunzel lifts her eyes to Charles, opens her mouth to speak, but the words don't immediately come out. She's completely taken aback, her throat swelling to a positively dry state, because this declaration is not only unexpected, but unwarranted.

"I'm... I'm sorry. I honestly didn't know you felt that way, I —"

Charles drops her hands, his own hands thrashing in the air between them.

"You didn't know? You didn't _know?_ I've only been making it _completely_ obvious! Rapunzel, I threw a party in your honor! A party which _you_ disappeared from, need I remind you!"

"I said I was sorry."

Rapunzel feels herself shrinking back, shrinking deep within herself, and she absolutely despises herself for it. This is what she would've done in the tower. Why can't she truly escape from the girl she once was?

"I just needed some time alone. I truly didn't realize that you felt like this —"

"I don't believe you. Were you with him?"

"No, I —"

"Is that where you always disappear off to?"

"Charles, please —"

The prince takes her hands into his again, cold and firm, and Rapunzel starts to feel a little dizzy from his mixed signals – dizzy from trying to read him for all these months, with no conclusive result. She's spent _months_ awkwardly studying his demeanor, months wondering what he truly thinks of her. In the wake of Gothel's emotional manipulation, she's spent months _hating_ herself for seeking validation from Charles, even a little. And now, finally, he's telling her _exactly_ how he feels, spelling it out clearly enough for her to read with ease. And all Rapunzel can do, is stand there and wish that he could snatch the words back up, as if they had never existed at all.

Because it makes it harder to hate him, if he refuses to hate her back.

"Rapunzel, I love you. I have fallen madly in love with you, despite my hesitations in doing so. I simply couldn't stop myself. What I feel for you, is something that I have never felt for another woman before. And I _want_ to make this work. I want to see where our relationship could go. I feel that we have a lot of potential here, not only to be successful rulers of this kingdom, but as romantic partners, as well."

Charles pauses, taking a deep breath, as though his lungs are not capable of carrying what he's about to say on their own.

"But I can't do that, I cannot love you in the way that you deserve, if you're going to allow yourself to be emotionally distracted by another man. It's completely disrespectful to our marriage! Didn't anyone ever explain to you what a proper marriage is supposed to look like?"

Rapunzel feels her chest tighten, suddenly very embarrassed in the wake of Charles's condescending tone – because no, no one had. For a small fraction of her life, Rapunzel has only had her parent's example to follow, and even their marriage isn't perfect. For a split second, Gothel's face flashes in her mind, and the princess narrows her eyes at her equally irate husband.

"No one _prepared me_ for this, or gave me the handbook on arranged marriages, Charles. I had no idea that I was going to have to marry you. So, _excuse me,_ for not exactly being the wife of the year. I had an entire _life_ before —"

"Before I came here. Yes, I know, Rapunzel. Please do continue to rub in my face how happy you were with _him_ before I came here and ruined everything for you!"

Rapunzel doesn't know what to say. The deeply engrained, people-pleasing part of her, wants to comfort him, wants to reassure Charles that, no, her unusually irritable attitude and constant disappearances, aren't partially his fault. But that would be a lie, because they are. And she's so angry herself, after the night that she's had, that Rapunzel no longer wants to be that people-pleasing little girl that she once was.

This time, she rips her hands from his, and the raging look in Charles's eyes only reflects his hurt like a mirror of her own – hurt which stems from two very different places. Nonetheless, each young spouse is angry and hurting in their own way, for their own twisted reasoning. Rapunzel, because something was stolen from her that she will never get back, and because the man in front of her now, is partly to blame. Charles, because there is no pride to be found in yearning after a woman who still loves another man.

"Yes, Charles! I _was_ happy. I was _so_ happy! And yes, that happiness was because of Eugene. I was in love with someone else when you arrived here. My heart is _still_ with him. And I'm not going to stand here and pretend like that's not true, just to soothe _your_ ego!"

Charles sighs deeply once more, pinching the bridge of his straight nose, as if trying to muster every ounce of patience that he has left – which, frankly, isn't much.

"Regardless of how you feel about him, we are _married_ now, Rapunzel. Tell me, _when_ are you going to understand that?" The prince looks down to her once more, staring her in the eyes hauntingly. "When are you going to come to terms with the fact that you must. Let him. _Go?"_

"I already _have_ let him go, thanks to you." The spirited princess spats back, feeling as though a fire has been lit, deep in her belly – a fire which is strong enough to take down Charles's evergreen forest of pretty words and declarations of love.

' _Lies. Lies, lies, lies. I was in his bed just the other night, and I kissed him like the world was ending. And I would be doing just that right now, if I could.'_

"No. It's becoming clearer and clearer to me that you haven't. And frankly, our marriage deserves far better than that from you. It deserves for you to at least _try_ , Rapunzel." Haughtily, the aftertaste of liquor hot on his breath, Charles adds, "I _demand_ that you try."

Rapunzel knows that he's right. Charles is pretentious, and spoiled, and spent his teen years and early twenties thus far, blowing through his government's money, and fooling around with enough girls who would risk it all for him, to rival a young Flynn Rider. Despite all of this, Charles deserves true love, just as much as anyone else, and he's chosen to love _her_. And that would be great, lucky even, that an arranged marriage would even have a _chance_ at resulting in genuine love and affection.

It could all work out in Charles's favor – that is, if Eugene didn't exist, and if they were living in an alternate universe in which Rapunzel did not yearn for another man. She yearns for him so much, in fact, that it actually makes her sick to her stomach to be away from him. But he _does_ exist, and she _does_ yearn for him that much – so much so, that Rapunzel feels like she might throw up in the wake of Charles's admittance of love. Because suddenly, things are even more complicated than they were before. Still, there is nothing that Charles can say or do, to change Rapunzel's feelings.

There is nothing the prince will _ever_ be able to do to effectively coax her away from Eugene.

Rapunzel looks to Charles, falling off the cliff of irritation, into a bottomless, bitter anger. Standing here before the blonde, young prince, Rapunzel feels like the shell of her past self, a figment of the person that she once had been. She recalls how content she'd felt when her and Eugene had spent that first year together in the kingdom – a year which had consisted of chasing one another through the gardens, and nights spent under the stars, tracing the outline of constellations with the fingers of your lover, and being so in love that you actually feel out of your mind.

That princess, that faraway _version_ of Rapunzel, had been bubbly, spirited, adventurous… and yes, pathetically happy. Her life wasn't perfect then, not by any means. The princess had been plagued with nightmares about losing Eugene to the dark whisper of death, still under the metaphorical thumb of Gothel, forced to overcome barriers that she hadn't even _realized_ she'd had for eighteen years, due to extensive emotional and mental abuse. Her father had struggled with overprotectiveness, her mother had struggled to forgive the witch who had taken eighteen years with her daughter from her. Eugene, though quietly, had struggled with what it meant to _be_ Eugene again. But the four of them had struggled right through, and come out on the other side as a strong, tightknit family unit. They had been _together_ , and Rapunzel had become the woman that she was meant to be all along.

In real time, _this_ version of Rapunzel, this self-deprecating, sorrowful excuse of the strong-willed princess that she'd once been, just feels... _empty_ – a consistent contemplation of how her life now, so strongly resembles what her life had felt like when she was still trapped in her tower.

"You're not the boss of me, Charles. There is nothing that you can _demand_ of me."

Rapunzel responds defiantly, her voice hollow and low. She's not particularly in the mood for an argument tonight, but she knows that her brave comment will surely start one with her new husband.

"I have been controlled for my entire _life!_ And I will _not_ be controlled by you."

Charles points a lazy finger at her in response, swaying a little at the sudden motion, his intoxication catching rapidly up with him.

"You are my wife. And I am your husband. Which means, whether you like it or not, Princess, _I_ have the power to tell _you_ how things are going to play out. A few things are going to change around here, starting with you putting a little _effort_ into this marriage!"

The retaliated words burst from Rapunzel's chest, the agony of their circumstance bubbling to the surface, where it has waited for the chance to boil over for four, long months.

"I _can't!_ I can't put effort into this, I can't _be_ the person that you need me to be. I can't just wake up one day, and force myself to love you! And I'm sorry for that, Charles, I _really_ am. But it's the truth."

"Bullshit! Don't lie to me, Rapunzel. You could try, you _would_ try, if you _wanted_ to. But I know girls like you. I've been _with_ girls like you, plenty of them."

Charles creeps close to her, voice low and husky, poking a finger to her chest, which Rapunzel immediately swats away. His flesh upon her body, even if only over her clothes, is enough to make Rapunzel's skin crawl. His touch would still make her shiver, even if Charles wasn't drunk. But something about his high state of intoxication, makes Rapunzel feel a special kind of sick when Charles's shaking hand rests upon her, in a way that she's never feared Eugene when he's been drinking before.

"You find satisfaction in teasing two men at the same time, don't you, Princess? Well, I simply won't have it! I will not be married to a _whore_."

Charles crosses his arms with a dramatic huff, staring at her, as if he's awaiting an equally dramatic, equally as _painful_ reaction from her – as though he expects Rapunzel to attack his character, too, giving them a reason to fight – a reason to actually _feel_ something for one another.

Rapunzel considers the putrid word, a word rimmed with innuendo and shameful allegation.

_Whore_. She's heard it before, spoken in hushed tones around the castle by some of the maids when they're engaged in their daily dose of kingdom gossip. When she'd heard it for the first time, never one to shy away from burning curiosity, Rapunzel had innocently asked Eugene what it meant. His eyebrows had shot up in surprise, and he'd tripped over his own tongue for the first half of the explanation, delicately explaining what the harsh slur meant.

But she understands, now. She understands what the dirty word implies, understands the weight that it carries. And maybe Charles is right — maybe she _is_ a whore.

A whore for Eugene, because she still wants him when she has a husband who she _should_ want instead. A whore for her kingdom, because she can't find neither the courage to leave Eugene, nor the courage to leave _with_ him. She's a whore for the guilt, and for the shame, and for the anxiety-ridden possibility of getting caught, all of which are slowly eating her alive. Because letting down her people… would be far worse than letting down herself. Far worse, even, than letting down Eugene.

So, she lets Eugene fuck her. She lets him fuck the guilt and the shame right out of her. Until, like clockwork, all that shame reoccurs in the morning, when Rapunzel wakes up to him whispering that it's time for her to go, and she retreats to a bed that's far too cold – a bed which is painfully devoid of true love, or any sense of love at all (or so, she'd thought, until tonight). But, only being human, Rapunzel needs that love, _yearns_ for it. So, she sneaks to Eugene's bed to be held tightly against his chest, far more often than she should, and she subtly flinches each time her own husband touches her instead of him.

And maybe that makes her a whore.

Rapunzel narrows her eyes, registering the implications of the insult. Where is this coming from? Charles had been so unusually kind to her earlier in the night. Was he truly that provoked by Eugene's presence at the party? Clearly he was, if Charles is standing here, professing his love to her, and not even a minute later, throwing such brutal language in her face – language which respectfully should not be spoken to the face of a young lady, let alone to the face of a princess.

"Honestly, Charles, I don't find satisfaction in anything involving you."

If _that_ armored comment doesn't take down the prince's ego by a few notches, Rapunzel isn't quite sure what will. But, to her dismay, Charles only stalks closer. The slightest of smiles is growing on his face as he looms over her, making Rapunzel's heart pound in her chest – and not in the way that Eugene makes her heart flutter and beat a little too hard against her ribcage.

"Wait a minute… are you… are you trying to make me _jealous_ , Princess? Is that the little game that you're trying to play here? Because if you are, it's _definitely_ working." Charles grins, and the liquor on his breath stings in Rapunzel's nose.

"I can assure you, I have no intention of making you –"

But he's tugging at her hip now, bringing her close, pulling the princess against his chest. Rapunzel tries to pull away, but his grip on her wrist is too strong.

"That's why you always disappear off somewhere, isn't it? So you can act like a little harlot, and get off on making me jealous. Because you _want_ to tease me, don't you?"

"Charles, let go! You're _hurting_ me –"

Charles grits his teeth, squeezing her wrist tighter between his fingers. He should be nice to his wife. He really should. But he's _been_ nice. He's been complacent with her for far too long, allowing her to get away with this unacceptable, _childish_ behavior. He's _tired_ of being nice. Why _should he_ be nice, when she leaves him with nothing in his sheets but questions, and disconnection, and the sad, pathetic truth that he will _never_ be her greatest desire? At least, not while Eugene is still living in this castle.

Well, no more. There's nothing poetic about being the other man, and there's nothing poetic about the red, molten anger flowing behind Charles's eyes, uncontrollable to him.

"No, Rapunzel. I _will_ get you to listen to me, no matter how hard it is for you. It should be easy for a woman to listen to her husband!"

"Well, maybe it won't be as _easy_ as you think!"

Charles is a strong man. A courageous man, an adored man. He is a leader, an alpha male. At least, he _was_ one, back in Maddoline, where every girl had all but fallen at his welcoming feet. Every young, Maddolineon woman had wanted to be in _his_ bed. And now, the girl that _he_ wants in his bed, for purposes that go beyond simple, mindless lust, refuses to stay in it.

He is a strong man. A clever man, an accomplished man. He is a man with _title,_ with regency. And he will not be made a fool by a ninety-five-pound princess, and her refusal to let go of her felonious ex-boyfriend. So, if all of that were true, if he knows his own worth so well, why is Charles stringing himself along for her? Why is he begging for a _thread_ of her attention, when she's sewn herself into the heart of another man, stitch by stich, cross by cross?

Because, for better or for worse, she is still his wife. Because he was taught to respect the constitution of marriage — and apparently, some people in this castle, were _not_ taught such things. Because he can't die before knowing the taste of her tongue in his mouth, can't die before knowing the feel of her in his arms in the middle of the night.

And it looks like he may never know, because she's wiggled from his grasp, making her way for the door, where her petite frame has gone a little blurry around the edges in his increasingly fuzzy vision.

"I didn't ask to be married to you, and I _definitely_ didn't ask to be treated this way!"

Rapunzel turns back, grasping the door handle with white knuckles, resentful tears pricking at her eyes.

"And you know what else? I didn't even ask for a party! I just went with you to be _nice!_ "

With a huff, the angry princess makes to slip through the doorway, her heavy skirts swishing violently behind her. Charles quickly follows after her, though, taking Rapunzel by the arm again, sure to be gentle this time. She whirs on him, her face twisted in pure irritation, though his own face has softened considerably.

"I'm sorry, darling. I lost my cool. It won't happen again, I _promise_. Please, stay with me. Let us talk about this."

She simply stares at him, as though his neck has sprouted three new heads, and he knows that staying is something she will never do. Physically, maybe, because she has no other choice. But not emotionally, and not tonight. Tonight, she'll probably stalk off to the library, spending most of the night there, as she often does.

' _Yes, the library! That's where she probably was. That's why she disappeared from the party, to have a quiet moment alone, just like she said. I've been irrational with her. If I can only convince her to stay, I'll apologize, and we can talk it out –'_

"You're right. It won't happen again."

And with that, Rapunzel shrugs out of his grasp, furiously slamming the door behind her. Because leaving him, is the easiest thing that she's ever done. And deep down, in a vengeful, hateful place, Charles knows that she isn't going to the library tonight.

* * *

Rapunzel knows exactly where she should be. It's late, incredibly late in the night (or incredibly early in the morning, depending on one's interpretation of time), and she _should_ be in her marriage bed, sound asleep beside her husband. Or perhaps, doing what is _expected_ of married couples, and engaging in the process of creating an heir for the kingdom. But there will be no heirs, not anytime soon. Not unless Rapunzel can find a way to wake up one day, and not feel sick to her stomach at the very thought of anyone but one particular man fathering her children.

So, instead of being in the bed that she theoretically _should_ be in, her bare feet are padding down the dark hallway, avoiding the loud footsteps of the patrolling guards, pressing her back to the nearest stone wall, concealing herself to the shadows when the sound of clinking metal gets a little too close for comfort. The princess tiptoes and sneaks, because there is the bed that she _should_ be in; and then, there is the bed that she _needs_ to be in.

She doesn't bother knocking. She pushes the door open quietly, lingering in the doorframe as he stands there, unknowing to her arrival. His back is to her as he shrugs out of his vest, unbuttoning his shirt. He leaves it unbuttoned like that, fiddling absently with his rolled sleeves before sighing deeply, sinking onto the bed with a defeated slump in his shoulders. He looks up suddenly, realizing her presence, and his frame collapses completely at the sight of her.

Secretly, the part of him which is fueled by love and passion, is relieved to see her. His arms have been aching for her, ever since he walked her back to her own bedroom, no more than thirty minutes ago. The other part of him, which has grown accustomed to being disgustingly responsible and mature, knows that she shouldn't be here – not after the overly-eventful night they've had. They're only asking for trouble.

But isn't that what they've been doing for weeks now, anyway?

"Blondie… I thought I told you to stay in your own room tonight. It's not a good idea for you to be here, not after everything that happened with –"

"I know."

This is all she says. Quiet, and timid, as though she were a child caught with her hand deep in the cookie jar again. It's all she _can_ say, because he's right. She knows that he is. He _usually_ is. Eugene was right from the beginning that this is wrong – that entertaining their happily ever after behind closed doors, is only begging for an explosive situation to erupt, inevitably backfiring right in their faces.

But his warnings, his concerns, they hadn't been enough to keep her away from him. She'd spit right in the face of guilt and royal expectations, for a while. That is, until the secrets and lies had caught up to her, resting upon her shoulders like a weighty, shameful burden. He's right that, what with the night that they've had, they shouldn't risk being caught together. It's completely possible that Charles will cool down enough from his little spat with the princess to come searching for her. Assumedly, the jealousy-ridden prince would _not_ cool down enough to stop himself from starting a fight – a fight which Eugene would subsequently have to finish (and frankly, he doesn't have the energy for that tonight).

But tonight, she doesn't care. Tonight, Rapunzel is far too tired to wrap her lies in pretty paper, tying them neatly with a silken bow. She's become a master at spinning the most sorrowful of tales, decorating them so beautifully, and making them appear desirable, somehow. But there is nothing left within her hollow frame to produce the energy to pretend, not tonight. Tonight, she wants to be reckless, and selfish, and stupid. She wants to get so lost in him, that she'll never have even the slightest chance of finding her way back home. Once, he'd saved her from the home that was her tower, and she hasn't looked back since.

She won't find her way back from him, not ever. Because now, he _is_ home.

Rapunzel doesn't even look at him, just steps into the bedroom wordlessly, clicking the door shut behind her. Eugene notices that his princess's eyes are glazed over with something that looks like a dangerous mixture of desperate yearning and fear – a curious look, which typically ends with them falling into bed together. Most nights, he wouldn't be one to question the origin of her desire. But tonight, after everything that had happened with Stalyan, and after what Charles had said to him at the party, Eugene feels an unignorable unease from the uneasy look in _her_ eyes.

As though she were a heartbroken zombie, or perhaps a ghost haunting her lover, Rapunzel shuffles eerily to the bed. She sinks onto its soft edge, joining him there. She stares at the hardwood floor for a long moment, as though she were trying to find something there – as though she were trying to grasp onto something that's standing just in front of her, yet is not quite reachable. Eugene watches her closely, not saying anything, simply observing her unreadable demeanor.

Then, her little shoulders quake, and she releases a single, strangled sob, quickly followed by another. Eugene is immediately on his knees in front of her, as though he were worshipping her from the floorboards.

"Hey… hey, Blondie… it's okay."

His fingers rake up her body to ultimately cup her face. Rapunzel hangs her heavy head, clinging to his wrists with trembling fingers, desperate to feel his calloused hands upon her, wherever they may feel so inclined to fall.

"Can you tell me what's wrong, Sunshine?" Eugene tries to peer upward in hopes of getting a better look at her face, but she hangs her head unbearably low, unable to confront his worried expression.

"Am I…" Another twisted sob escapes her lips, and Rapunzel shakes her head pitifully, as if she can't bear to speak aloud what she's thinking – as if her tongue can't manage to carry the weight of her self-deprecating thoughts. "Am I a whore?"

The blunt question leaves her mouth so pathetically, as though she were embarrassed to speak the dirty word in _any_ context, let alone when regarding herself. The princess feels an undeniable, burning shame in her stomach just thinking about the possibility that Charles's words hold some truth to them. But she _has_ to know, because the truth is starting to feel a special kind of blurry tonight – somehow, even blurrier than usual.

" _What?_ "

Rapunzel bears a pensive look on her face when the words leave her mouth – one that Eugene would normally be awestruck by, drowning in the pool of her sheer beauty. But right now, he only feels a crippling concern rising in his gut. Her eyes have become particularly fixated on the roaring fireplace behind them, so Eugene brings a gentle hand to her chin, forcing the princess to look him in the eye. She does, meeting his hard gaze, her striking green irises ringed with crystalline tears, which reflect upon her cheeks like little shards of broken glass in the golden firelight.

If Eugene believed in such things, he would swear that her tears were the broken pieces of her poor, shattered heart, finally escaping her body.

"What did you just say?" Eugene demands again, completely dumbfounded by her question. He feels that distinct kind of caught-off-guard which often happens around Rapunzel, because she's always unpredictable in that endearing, adorable way of hers.

But this isn't endearing – her unpredictability, her unquenched curiosity. Not right now. Not tonight. She knows it, and the shame in her trembling frown gives it away.

"Rapunzel… talk to me. Please."

He desperately tries to lift her face, but she won't budge, her mind drowning in a sea of humiliation, her eyes fallen to her hands in her lap.

"Because I can't stop loving you? Does that make me a –"

Eugene grabs both of her hands abruptly, enveloping them in his own, tightly intertwining her fingers with his.

"No! _No_. Why on _earth_ would you think that, Rapunzel? Who said that to you?"

"Because, I…"

' _Charles. Because_ _ **Charles**_ _said it. That's why I'm thinking it, why I'm terrified to be that person – to be seen in that dirty, shameful way. No, don't say that. Eugene will get angry, and this night from hell just needs to end, once and for all. It won't end, not if I admit where these thoughts truly originated from.'_

"Well, because I'm married, but I make love to you, instead of to my… instead of to my husband, like everyone expects of me."

Rapunzel chokes on the disdainful word – _husband_ – as if it were a vile of poison which she's poured down her own throat. It's as though simply speaking the word, will ring in the trumpets of her death march, summoning the black parade to suck the life from her entirely.

"And I've heard the maids talking about it before, that some of the girls in the village are…'whores who can't keep their legs closed.' They're the kind of women who don't find contentment in just one man's bed. And I just thought that, maybe… well, I can't, and I don't, and –"

"You stop _right there_ , Princess." Eugene reaches up, brushing away her tears – gently brushing away the pain, and the sorrow, and the longing, which have forever marked the last several months for the both of them.

"Don't ever, _ever_ think that. Don't you ever think that word could even come _close_ to describing someone as perfect as you. I don't want that to ever come out of your mouth again. Don't reduce yourself, or our love, for that matter, to that. We are _in love_ , Rapunzel. This is an entirely different situation than anything you would've overheard. Okay?"

She has trouble looking him in the eye, bottom lip trembling, a surefire sign that she's about to fall apart again – and not in the good way.

"B-but… but maybe it's true. Maybe that's how everyone would see me, if they knew what I was doing with you. I'm sure they wouldn't want me as their queen someday, if they knew. If they knew that _I_ can't keep _my_ legs –"

"Rapunzel, hey. Look at me. Look right at me."

His hands are again resting on either side of her face, desperate to provide her with some much-needed reassurance.

"First of all, you are going to be a _kickass_ queen someday, and don't you _ever_ forget it. Secondly… what those maids were talking about… that has nothing to do with you, nothing to do with _us_ , and it never will. If anything, you just can't keep your legs closed because I'm irresistible."

The joke completely goes over Rapunzel's head, sailing far past her miserable self, and into never-ending space. Instead, her head falls into her hands and her shoulders shake. She can't look at him, and Eugene realizes that his pathetic excuse for a joke has done nothing to console her. He feels even worse now, worse than he had when he'd asked her to run away with him earlier in this never-ending night, and when she'd subsequently said _no_ – if feeling worse than he had in _that_ moment, is even physically achievable.

"You were right. We _should_ run away." Rapunzel suddenly murmurs into her hands, quiet at first, though her shoulders quickly start to shake in the most heartbreakingly anxious fashion. "We can't stay. We can't stay here, Eugene, _I_ can't stay here. I can't do this anymore! I can't be _queen,_ not after I've –"

"Rapunzel –"

Her chest is heaving rapidly, miserably trying to keep up with her deep-hearted sobs, the weight of her four-month bout of pain finally crashing upon her tiny frame, once and for all. The spirited princess has tried her very best to keep it all in, tried her best to tie herself together with a smile – but no more. Not after this night. Holding it together, is nothing more than an abandoned afterthought now.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry, Eugene. I should've gone with you a long time ago. I _never_ should've come here."

The hysterical princess hangs her head deeper, allowing it to fall into his open hands, where he caresses her hair and shakes his own head, willing her apologizes to stop.

"But I can't… I can't leave! My people, they… they'll need me someday. But I feel like… I feel like I'm _trapped_ here! And I can't breathe, and everything is falling apart around me, and I _just_ want to be with you, and I –"

"Rapunzel, it's _okay_. I'm here. I'm right here, I'm not leaving you! Not ever."

Tears well in his own eyes, and Eugene hates himself – _hates_ himself – for asking such a thing of her earlier that night – for putting the possibility of getting away from all of this, into her brain at all. For placing something so desired, just barely out of her reach. It was cruel, and selfish, and he hates himself for it.

"We're together _now_. That's all that matters! And we're going to figure this out together, just like we always –"

"But we're not!" Rapunzel exclaims, wracked with her own unspoken guilt. "We're _not_ together! Not really. Not like we were. I just want things to go back to the way they were! Eugene, I can't…"

She looks to him with watery eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks, and if Eugene could fix everything for her, he would. God, he would. But he can't, and he knows it. He's only one man. And although it's not _really_ his fault, Eugene despises himself for not being able to make all of this go away for her.

Then again, it kind of is, Eugene reasons with himself. It _is_ his fault, indirectly. All of this. Because if he hadn't been a thief, he would've been a more suitable consort for a princess and future queen. Not much more, but his chances would have been a hell of a lot higher. The council wouldn't have hated him enough to go through with the deal with Maddoline. If he hadn't been a thief, maybe the council would have reconsidered the whole thing – would have reconsidered the possibility of marriage for him and Rapunzel.

But, if he hadn't been a thief, he never would have found her in the first place. Lying and secrets are what brought them together. Where would they be then, if they never would've met at all? They wouldn't be going through this dreadful agony of being ripped apart, unable to rightfully tie themselves back together. But they _would_ have a big, deep void in their hearts – without one another, an unnamed desire would have been left unfilled for the rest of their lives.

And somehow, a world like that, where they'd never met at all, seems a lot worse than their alternative reality.

Rapunzel sobs again, loudest of all – it's a painful, strangled sound, personifying her complete brokenness. She's angry, he can see it in her eyes. So _angry_. She swipes hard at her tear-stained cheeks, willing her tears to make a home somewhere else – anywhere else _but_ her damp face.

"Ugh! I can't – I can't stop _crying_. I am so sick of _CRYING!_ "

"Sweetheart, you need to _breathe_ –"

"I can't! I can't, I can't –"

' _It's too cold for her here. Too harsh, too terrible of a world. She's strong, so strong. But she deserves better than this. She deserves so much better, and I haven't done a_ _ **damn thing**_ _to give that to her.'_

"Come here."

Eugene stands from the floor, leaving his kneeling position between her legs, gathering her crumpled form into his arms, and sitting them together on the bed. She wraps her limbs around his front as though she were simply an extension of his body, clinging to him, her face buried in his neck. Her tears dampen the skin there, dampening his shirt, leaving wet stains on the white material. But he doesn't care. He just holds her close, murmuring into her hair, stroking it calmly, and trying his best to hold it together himself – to hold it together for her.

Because if he doesn't, who will?

"Breathe… just take a deep breath for me, Blondie."

She does, her frail figure drawing up against his chest, and deflating again after a few, shaky moments.

"Good job. Now do it again." Eugene whispers, desperate to stop the tremors wracking her tiny body.

She obeys, mimicking the action and allowing the low murmur of his voice to soothe her. Rapunzel is desperate herself – desperate to slow her heartbeat, desperate to send the tears away – desperate to force these tears to retreat back to that dark, ugly place that she tries so hard to avoid, but just couldn't tonight. She can feel Eugene's hand tangled up in the hair at the back of her head, can feel the cold stain of tears on the collar of his shirt against her cheek.

"One more for good measure, sweetheart."

Rapunzel pulls back, her legs still wrapped snuggly around his hips. She holds back the tiniest of sobs at the look on Eugene's heartbreakingly handsome, grief-stricken face. He feels this way because of her – it's _her_ fault that he's so sad. He nods encouragingly, taking a deep breath himself, motioning for her to do the same. She does, heaving her chest, holding the air in her lungs for a long moment, just as he does.

Together, they breathe out four months of complete and utter hell.

"That's my girl."

Eugene cracks a small smile, reaching forward with both thumbs to wipe the excess tears loitering under her eyes, which have found a temporary home in her eyelashes. The tears pack themselves up, moving to the pads of his calloused fingers.

"Would you look at that. Absolutely beautiful."

Rapunzel looks away with a roll of the eyes, though she can't help but let out a little laugh, peppered with a small sniffle. The curious mixture of laugh and cry had bubbled up in her ribcage, which is still trying it's best to even her tearful gasps to the time of Eugene's steady chest.

"I'm a wreck." Eugene is just glad to have coaxed the smallest of smiles out of her, though Rapunzel adds, "And you, Eugene Fitzherbert, are full of it."

"Maybe. But you're a damn pretty wreck." He plunges a loving, gentle hand into her hair, pushing it away from her face, continuing softly, "My pretty wreck."

"I wish I was like you." Rapunzel sniffles, wiping her nose on the satin sleeve of her dress. "Always so strong."

Eugene quickly shakes his head, gently rebutting her compliment.

"See, _that's_ where you're wrong, Blondie. I'm not the strong one here, not even close. I'm really just the looks of the operation."

The tear-stained princess giggles at that – a sad, tentative little giggle, as though she were afraid to be happy – as though any showcase of joy would cause the darkness to filter in, snatching it right back from her.

"You _do_ have very good looks." Rapunzel admits endearingly, sniffling again. Her nose scrunches upward as she attempts to clear her sinuses of the tears and agony which have long overstayed their welcome in her body, and it's adorable.

"Well, that's all a man has, you know. His fake reputation, his good looks, his undeniably charming whit. And… if he's _really_ lucky…"

Eugene leans forward, his mouth brushing hers – a ghost, a whisper of the pain which they both feel so inclined to dance with, as though it were the devil, coaxing them right down into hell. The tiniest of whimpers escapes her lips when his own lips touch hers. The sound is a curious mixture of sorrow, and wanting, and the deep need to be consoled after the stressful night they've had.

"A ridiculously sweet, gorgeous girl, who comes along and straightens him out."

Eugene barely gets the words out, his voice raspy and hushed, as though he were sharing a secret with her, before her lips are upon his, coaxing his tongue from his mouth. Though he wants nothing more than to kiss her sadness away, Eugene pulls back a little too soon, looking her in the eyes unwaveringly. He concentrates on swallowing his lust down, never wanting to take advantage.

"Rapunzel… are you sure? We don't have to, not after the night we've –"

"I'm sure. I want you. I need you, _especially_ after the night that we've had." Her small hands cup his jaw, and she's never looked as beautiful as she does now – dress pooled around her waist, legs wrapped around his torso as the firelight dances upon her face. "I've never needed you as much as I do right now."

Rapunzel leans down to kiss him again, enveloping Eugene in her desire, sucking him down with her to that toxic level of need. Her arms, her legs, the soft flesh where her neck meets the gentle curve of her shoulder, the warmth growing between her thighs — they all beckon him in, begging him to comfort her in the only way that he really feels capable of right now – mostly because Eugene doesn't feel that he would be able to find the right _words_ to comfort her if he tried. Their situation feels too big, too _unfixable_ , to even attempt to explain their pain away. And even if he _did_ try, the words would likely fall dead on his tongue, sucked dry by the sheer urgency of desperately needing that comfort from her right back.

Eugene moves them up the bed, laying Rapunzel down in the pillows, hovering over her before she pulls him down to continue their kiss. She whimpers into his mouth, and he pulls off her dress, ripping at her corset like it's the only thing in the world that's keeping them apart – if only it was. Reaching down to unbutton his pants, Rapunzel finds a small dagger strapped to Eugene's belt. Curiously pulling it out, she dangles it in the air between them.

"Eugene..." She peers up at him, quirking an eyebrow inquisitively. "Why do you have this?"

Eugene wordlessly takes the dagger from her hands, and she watches in shock from below as he effectively sinks the blade into the wooden headboard above them. Rapunzel won't admit that the aggressive action effectively makes the warmth between her legs grow even stronger.

"Why not?" He asks simply, looking her in the eyes, his face stoic and unchanging.

Rapunzel hastily looks up to the headboard, where the dagger is now protruding harshly from, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Looking back to him, the princess gives Eugene a hard look, unsatisfied with his vague answer.

" _Eugene!_ That's probably expensive!"

He only shrugs, the lust burning in his eyes. He obviously doesn't want to be having this conversation right now.

Or _any_ conversation, for that matter.

"A guy's gotta protect himself somehow."

"Oh, really?"

Rapunzel leans forward, pressing her freshly naked body to his — a look of lust in her own eyes – only because she can't help it. Though, her eyes are filled with genuine concern, as well. Eugene can't miss it, always acutely in tune with her emotions.

"You're just starting to carry a dagger now, out of nowhere? You haven't done that since we first moved into the castle."

From the tone of her voice, Eugene knows that Rapunzel's hands would be sassily perched on her hips if she weren't lying in bed beneath him. She'd failed to notice that he'd taken the dagger with him from his room earlier, before he'd escorted her back to her bedroom – when he'd naively thought that she would _actually_ stay put there for the remainder of the night. He hadn't wanted her to know, because that would mean telling Rapunzel about what Charles had said at the party, and there's no use in worrying her any more than she already is.

Eugene simply shrugs again, cupping her face with the intention of continuing to kiss her. She lets him, deciding that picking her battles will be a worthwhile skill tonight.

The princess is upset, beaten down by the emotional toil of not only this one, twisted night, but of the last several months. She's been crying, and the last thing Eugene would ever want to do, is take advantage of his love in such a vulnerable state. But then again, Eugene isn't doing this, isn't giving in to her, only because he wants something from her – that's never been what this is. He's not giving in because she's a simple means to a pleasurable end, as so many girls before her.

He's giving in, because he loves her so pathetically, and because he's in his own state of teetering dangerously on the edge of fragility. They've had a horrible, horrible night – a horrible few _months_. Now, their worst fears are staring them down, harder than ever before, in the form of a bitterly jealous prince and an ex-flame who doesn't know when it's time to let the fire burn out.

And maybe that's why they need this from one another so badly in the first place.

If the only way to survive this guilt, this shame, this sorrow and raging jealousy, is to fuck it out of each other, that's exactly what they're going to do. If they have to live in a motel of delusion and overstay their welcome, they will. They will, and they'll enjoy it, for as long as reality will take pity on them.

Because maybe, if they believe it hard enough, they can still have a future together. And maybe, if they love one another hard enough, all of this will go away. Even if making it all 'go away,' can only consist of one, fire-lit night of purely blissful delusion — a dangerous, rose-colored delusion that they just can't seem to stop craving. And maybe, if they play with fire long enough, they will get burned, and this will all finally be over.

Maybe if he breathes her in deep enough, her scent will linger on his sheets for more than an hour. Maybe if he kisses her with enough passion, her taste will remain in his mouth long after the morning, when she will inevitably have to leave – when they will have to return to reality. Reality: where making love, and whispered _'I love you's,'_ and panted profanities, aren't enough to save them from the despair of their star-crossed situation.

But they will have this one night. Tonight, there will be no room in this bed for guilt. There will only be room for denial, and the kind of love that you can't find twice in one lifetime. Tonight, she won't frantically sneak back to her bedroom before the sun breaks above the horizon, counting her bare footsteps against the cold marble floor, praying that her husband won't notice her sneaking back into bed in the fading darkness.

For this one night, they will love one another recklessly, panting each other's names with the fervor of two, love-addicted teenagers. He will be a teenager again, all trembling hands and sloppy kisses, touching her with the kind of lustful haste that wordlessly says, _'I will never get enough of you.'_ When they're done, she will tuck herself into his side, and stay there until they awaken, whenever their eyes decide they can't keep themselves from looking at one another any longer. For one night, he will know that she is safe, right here in his arms. For one night, he will protect her from everything: from the crippling sorrow, the gut-wrenching guilt, and the injustice of their circumstance.

Her eyes roll back, and she forgets about everything except for the warm softness of his tongue between her legs. She forgets about her crown, which presses a heavy weight upon her — the weight of duty, of responsibility, of lifelong commitment to her kingdom. She forgets about the expensive diamond ring sitting in her bedside table, left untouched. She forgets about the robotic breakfast conversation, the empty looks – looks devoid of passion. She forgets about the awkward brushes of a hand, the sorry attempts to appear happily married. She forgets about the unexpected declarations of love from an envious prince. Because she doesn't need his words, doesn't need him to worship her unsteady ground.

Not when she already has Eugene for that. Not when he worships her enough for both men combined.

He goes down on her, because if he does, he won't have to see the sadness soaking up the vibrancy of her green eyes like a plague with no true cure. He won't have to think about how horribly he's let her down, won't have to think about all of the ways that he's failed her in the last four months. He won't have to think about his lack of title, his lack of ability to be what this kingdom would need him to be, if they had been allowed to marry. He won't have to think about the fact that, deep down, he's still nothing more than a lonely, little orphan, clinging to the one thing that he truly cares about with everything he's got. Except now, the one thing that he's clinging to, isn't the possibility of a better life. It's a girl – a girl who _gave him_ a better life – a girl that he can't let go of.

Because he's selfish, and letting her go is a grand act of selflessness that he just can't seem to muster the courage for.

Dying for her? Easy. Done. That's just about as selfless as it gets, and he'd do it again if he had to, without question. Reverting back to that scared orphan, taking on his real identity after abandoning it guiltlessly for years? That was a cakewalk. Leaving behind the only life he'd ever known – a life of adventure, of fast-paced crime – a life of _freedom?_ Completely fine. Letting go of her, even if it means that her life wouldn't have to be so complicated? Impossible. Unimaginable.

Not happening.

Remaining here with her, overstaying his welcome in the palace until someone kicks him out? Not up for debate – not even between the little angel and devil perched upon his shoulders, which so often argue back and forth from their respective spots. In order to leave her, he would have to be a man who is unwaveringly strong, a man who is secure in the possibility of knowing a life without her – and he is certainly not that man. As pathetic as it makes him, Eugene doesn't know who he would be anymore without her, and he doesn't want to find out.

So instead, he expertly dips his head to meet that aching spot between her legs, anchors her trembling thigh with a steady hand, reaching up to rest the other upon her chest. He feels her rapid heartbeat there, proof that she's still alive and well — at least, well enough to want him, yet doing badly enough to desperately need this special kind of comfort. It's the kind of comfort that drags you down into a numbing delusion, if only for a little while, before shoving you headfirst back into reality.

He feels her chest hollow out when she moans his name, and he forgets all about the worrisome threats from a man who can give her a lot more than he can. Instead, he recalls happier times: golden dresses, and chasing her through the courtyard, and watching her face light up brighter than sunshine as the lanterns rise in the sky. And things will be different now, but they will be okay, if he can just focus on nothing more than pleasuring her for this one, uninterrupted night.

When neither of them can wait any longer, he slides seamlessly inside of her. They moan together, the friction that they've yearned for since seeing one another in the ballroom earlier that night, melting away the tension that has built between then and now. His head falls pathetically against her shoulder, as he's nearly paralyzed by the feeling of her warmth around him. It's not the first time, and it probably won't be the last time that he feels this way with her. But somehow, it's never felt as good as it does right now. It's as though every layer of guilt and shame have been stripped away completely, revealing a different kind of satisfaction that neither of them have felt before. Impatiently, she rocks her hips into his, and he's convinced that he might actually break down and cry from the pleasure, because she's just so perfect.

And it hurts. _God_ , it hurts, somehow even more than it had the first time they'd ever made love. Now, there is a distinct weight, a heavy weight – a weight which follows the both of them around whenever they're apart. There is a consequence to be considered, a burden in which they had not fully understood before tonight. Because before, the first time they'd done this, they were not so blindly addicted to this feeling, Charles had not admitted his love to Rapunzel, and the notion of running away had not yet been set before them on the table, teasing their deepest desires. And now that it's all sitting here in front of them, so tangible and unavoidable, it hurts worse than ever before — hurts in that mind-numbing way that just feels _so damn good._

Tonight, they won't have to be the sorrowful masters of spinning tales – tales about where they _really_ disappear off to so often. They won't count their secrets, wracked with worry as they wonder how long it will take before those secrets inevitably come to the light. They won't yearn to be in one another's embrace all night long, falling in and out of an uneasy slumber which will leave them unsatisfied and groggy in the morning, their arms left empty and restless. Their hearts and bodies won't be bound together by lies and deception, in the same way their journey together had first started — with secrets.

Tonight, they will simply be tangled up together, flesh attached to yielding flesh, because they are just too in love to be anything else.

"Do you love him?"

Eugene already knows the answer to this deeply charged question, but he needs to hear it anyway – needs her denial to seep into his bones, needs to taste that denial in his mouth, so that he won't have to question it later. So that he won't have to fall into a deep pit of _'what ifs'_ when he's alone, when he has to go too many days without seeing her to remain completely in his right mind.

"No. I never will." Rapunzel pants between the angry words, sure and defiant, leaving tantalizing kisses down his jaw and neck. "I'll never... I'll never love _a-anyone_ but you…"

She moans against his lips when she finally finds them again, her mouth falling open sooner than she can properly kiss him. Her eyes flutter shut as he hits just the right spot within her, returning to that deep place again and again.

" _Oh_ … _fuck_. Eugene..."

Her whispered, profane language, intertwined with her heated, rebellious refusal to ever love Charles, sends a pang of lust through Eugene which is so strong, that he couldn't ignore it if he tried. Because he'd taught her that – _he'd_ taught her how to use that word, _he'd_ taught her to satisfy the needs deep within herself. So, to satisfy his own need, in that twisted way of his that can only get off if _she_ does, he reaches down as he continues to pound deep within her, gently rubbing that bundle of nerves between her legs.

She screams when she comes, and he hastily moves a hand to her mouth, pushing her body down into the mattress, muffling her release as she tightens and relaxes over and over again. He kisses her everywhere as she restricts around him – her neck, her shoulders, her cheeks. Though the need to scream soon passes, and though Eugene tentatively retracts his hand, she continues to moan pitifully into his neck, the hard release too much for her to handle gracefully. He tumbles headfirst down the cliff just after her, his hands cradling her head, his body sheltering her from everything the world may use to snuff out her light.

"Tell me you don't love him." He demands in a head-spinning rush, desperate to get his answer before the dizzying moment passes all too soon.

"Eugene, you already _know_ –" She whimpers, completely taken by the orgasm which threatens to rip her right apart.

" _Tell me._ Please, Blondie, I _need_ to hear it. Tell me." He begs, looking down at her with eyes which are so tired, so defeated, so overcome with love and lust that she simply can't deny him of the truth.

"I don't love him. I'll never love him."

Eugene leans forward, capturing her lips once more, riding out the seemingly endless waves of their climax together, soaking up that truth like it's the _only_ thing that will keep them afloat in this storm.

And maybe it is.

When it's over, Rapunzel doesn't feel guilty, as she often does after the fact. She doesn't hurry to find her corset, doesn't hurry to slip into her underwear, hastily kissing him goodbye, only to return to the harsh reality on the other side of his door. She doesn't feel like a disgrace to her parents, or like the worst possible candidate for future queen. Rather, she feels _alive_ – more alive than she has in four months – her legs still shaking from the weight of that deep-seated shame being lifted, once and for all.

Once they've caught their breath, Eugene slowly slides out of her, though he doesn't roll off of her body. He simply shifts his weight so that his head is resting on her chest, his own chest still heaving slightly, his body positioned limply between her trembling legs.

"Thank you." He whispers against her skin, eyes fluttering shut in the peaceful lull of coming down from that familiar, mind-numbing high – though, it has never felt as good as it does tonight. "I love you."

"Thank _you_. I love you, too." The worn princess responds in kind, placing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, before adjusting her body beneath him to ultimately leave the bed. "But I should probably get back to –"

His face still buried against her skin, Eugene shakes his head, a hand shooting up to grab hold of her arm, as if to keep her from moving – from leaving in the way that she always has to on nights like this, too soon for either of their hearts to truly bear.

"Uh-uh. You're staying right here with me, Princess."

Rapunzel straightens her back against the headboard in surprise, eyeing the dagger which still protrudes from the wood, reaching out to absently finger its smooth handle.

"Are you sure? I mean, earlier you said that it probably wouldn't be a good idea toni –"

Eugene raises his head, a look on his face which tells Rapunzel that, just like her, he's too tired to wrap his own lies up in pretty little bows tonight.

"I know what I said, Sunshine. But I'll sleep like shit if you're not safe next to me. And frankly, after tonight, I could use a good night's sleep." He leans up on his elbows to kiss her bare shoulder before rolling out of bed, adding, "Besides, your parents are deep in the countryside, so they'll never know. And Charles, well… he can fuck himself."

And maybe Eugene is also too tired to care much about consequences.

Rapunzel has never stayed completely overnight in Eugene's room before. Typically, she's sneaking from his bed and back into her own bedroom just before dawn, when the world is still dark, the castle still eerily quiet. Even before Charles arrived, when Rapunzel would sneak into Eugene's bed, she was always back into her _own_ bed before her chambermaids arrived to her room to wake her. She knows that staying with Eugene through the night and into the morning, probably isn't an incredibly smart idea.

Regardless of right and wrong, Charles's harsh words replay in the princess's mind like nails on a chalkboard. Suddenly, a small part of her actually _hopes_ that Charles will find them together – hopes that the prince will come to terms with the reason for her constant disappearances. That way, all of the hiding, all of the secrets, all of the long days spent yearning for a life that Rapunzel will never be able to have, a life with Eugene… it could all just be _over_. She doesn't know what will happen if they do get caught. But frankly, it can't be much worse than being forced to live in the agonizing way that they have been.

Eugene turns back to the contemplative princess, wondering why she's not following close behind him, as she usually does. He's still so used to the pattering of her little, bare footsteps behind him, as he'd became so accustomed to the sound after a year of hide and seek, tag, and general troublemaking around the castle.

"Comin,' sweetheart? Let's take a shower."

Taking the hint that he won't be taking any negotiations tonight, Rapunzel pushes away the sheets and follows Eugene into the bathroom, joining him under the inviting spray.

"You look pretty right now." Eugene comments softly, soaking in her post-love-making glow – a glow which he normally doesn't have much time to genuinely bask in.

Rapunzel giggles, closing her eyes and running her hands over her cheeks, letting the warm water wet her hair.

"Mmm. I probably still have tear tracks all over my face. _Very_ attractive."

"You always are, to me." Eugene shrugs indifferently. Her sadness, though painful for him, makes her no less beautiful. He adds, in an attempt to lighten the mood, "You know, if I remember correctly, the _last time_ you were in here with me, you gave me head."

He's teasing, Rapunzel knows, though he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as he runs a bar of soap up and down her arms gently. Chuckling, she places a hand to her hip, looking at Eugene with the air of a girl who knows _exactly_ how to drive him crazy.

And she does. Often.

" _Ohhh_ … was that _here?_ I'm not quite sure if I can recall…"

"Uh huh."

Eugene grabs for her hips, guiding her gently to the shower wall, where their sins should effectively be washed away, but won't be.

"You, you little tease, went down on me while your _father_ , _the_ _king_ , was standing right there in the doorway."

He proceeds to lift her feet from the ground, pressing her back against the stone wall, wrapping her legs around his torso, bringing their faces unbearably close.

"Ringing any bells yet, Princess?"

"Maybe you'll just have to remind me."

Under the warmth of the water, they'll comfort one another once more, properly dealing with any last remnants of despair which are a direct result of this night from hell – these _four months_ from hell – remnants they hadn't been able to discard in bed. That night, the both of them sleep like the dead, far better than either of them have slept since Charles's arrival. In the morning, she'll slip into his button-down shirt. They'll lie together on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one another's arms, watching the sun rise above the kingdom from the window, painting the sky every hue of orange.

And for just _one moment_ , everything will be as it should.

**AN: Hey, guys. I'm going to be super honest for a minute. I'm not saying this for pity-seeking purposes, only because it's what's on my mind. I've been feeling really insecure for the last week or so, worrying that this story isn't interesting, engaging, or even well-written. It's probably just the little perfectionist in me tumbling around, making herself at home, although I wish that I could more easily evict her most of the time (sadly, I cannot. I have tried).**

**Regardless, I truly hope that you guys are enjoying this fic. I've put so much time, love, and energy into it, and I'm genuinely so attached to this story and these characters. That being said, I appreciate each and every one of you for being here. It can be difficult some days to keep writing, when you're constantly wondering if you're successfully entertaining people and bringing them joy, which are just some of those natural goals you have as a writer. I hope that I'm doing at least one of the following for you: bringing you joy, keeping you interested in the story, or making your stomach flutter with little New Dream butterflies. I'm overachieving if you're experiencing all three! Anyway, thank you for reading, and I hope to see you again soon with Chapter 18.**


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello, friends! ivy by Taylor Swift is the main featured song which inspired this chapter, because it just fits so strangely well with this story. I love when that happens. It's almost as though the song was made for this plotline, and it's incredibly satisfying. The song perfectly captures the urgency of a forbidden love. I was especially inspired by the line, 'He wants what's only yours.' This line rings very true for New Dream, in which our dear Prince Charles is seeking the attention of a woman who already – eternally – belongs to someone else.
> 
> This chapter includes quite a bit of dialogue – more than I would personally prefer, typically. I very much enjoy actually being in the heads of characters, rather than engaging them in a lot of dialogue. Regardless, the conversations taking place in this chapter felt necessary to the storyline, and I hope this rings true. This is another long chapter – if the chapters are becoming too long and difficult to remain engaged with, please let me know. It simply felt appropriate to keep the events of this chapter together.
> 
> Lastly, I want to send out a quick warning: things are about to get very, very difficult for New Dream. I mean, sobbing, gut-wrenching, heartbreakingly difficult. But I'm playing the long game, so please – I'm begging you – in the upcoming chapters, just trust me. And, most importantly, enjoy!

**Chapter 18: Why Keep a Gold Bracelet, When You Could Have a Crown?**

_What would he do if he found us out?_

_Crescent moon, coast is clear; spring breaks loose, but so does fear_

_He's gonna burn this house to the ground_

_How's one to know, I'd live and die for moments that we stole?_

_On begged and borrowed time_

_So tell me to run, or dare to sit and watch what we'll become_

_And drink my husband's wine…_

It's just a bracelet. A lack-luster, gold-plated bracelet, dulled in its age. The piece is thin and fitted, ideally made for the wrist of a slender woman. She runs a finger along the cold metal, and shivers in the wake of the endless stream of memories in which it emulates. It's not the most expensive thing that he'd ever stolen, but definitely not the least valuable, either.

She turns the bracelet over in her palm, a wave of reminiscent nostalgia washing over her. She recalls the successful heists, the heart-pumping getaways, and the heated, alcohol-rimmed sex in a seedy inn after the job was done. She remembers the smell of him in her sheets, and the smell of him on her clothes. For the first few months of their relationship, she would douse herself in her strongest perfume, hoping that her father wouldn't smell him on her. They were young, living with reckless abandon, driven by the passion of teenage love. They had been in love.

He'd loved her at one time, right? It couldn't all be a lie, a rouse – she wasn't a simple means to a lustful end, as her father had often biasedly suggested. Flynn hadn't only used her to benefit from her father's connections. He hadn't used her for the jobs, for the money. What they'd had then, was _real_.

Wasn't it?

It's been so long since Stalyan has felt his kiss, so long since his hands have willingly traveled upon the expanse of her yielding body. It's not that she's gone without during their time apart – it's just that no other man has ever made her feel the way that he once did. And now, another woman is reaping the benefits of the person that _she'd_ shaped him to be. And Stalyan knows – she _knows_ – if she could just kiss him one more time, he would taste like bad decisions, and regret, and unmarked desire which has gone unsatisfied for far too long.

Or, likely, he would just taste like the princess.

This gold, memory-induced bracelet is the very reason that they'd met. She'd watched him steal it from a vendor in the crowded streets of Vardaros, slinking confidently away with the darting eyes and poker face of a well-seasoned thief. Even then, even at fifteen – still grieving the years of his youth that he'd lost in an unforgiving orphanage – he had been handsome as hell, charming, and witty to boot. That day, they'd fallen headfirst into the easy banter that would set the tone of their decade-long relationship – the same playful banter which, over the years, would devolve into explosive fights and malleable trust issues.

Stalyan wonders if they _ever_ fully, mutually trusted one another. She doesn't think so. After all, their relationship had been built upon lies, and manipulation, and taking the things that didn't belong to them in hopes of appeasing the empty feeling in their hearts – things like this bracelet. And she would do anything, _anything_ , so that things could go back to the way they once were, when they were (quite literally), partners in crime – before the engagement, before he'd left her at the altar. Before he would ever have a chance to find the princess in that stupid tower of hers. She would change, for him, and he for her. Their relationship would not be defined by alcohol-induced arguments, or flirtations with another man to make him jealous, or the foul smell of infidelity consistently lingering in the air between them.

But there is no time for that now. There is no time for changing, no time for declarations of unrequited love – no time for the deadly, reminiscent emotion creeping into her mouth like a bad taste, threatening to spill from her lips in a series of heartbroken sobs. Now, she is nothing more than a gold bracelet in his eyes: once valuable, but not uncommon – now, misplaced and forgotten. Easy to let go of, easy to trade for something far better.

And if she is a bracelet, the princess is a crown.

Stalyan swings her feet over the stone ledge of the single window in the same south-wing tower which she often retreats to in her free moments. She ponders the events of the previous night – namely, the tussle she'd gotten into with the princess. Last night, Stalyan had gone through half a bottle of hard liquor, holed up in her bedroom as a rambunctious party raged on in the grand ballroom – a party thrown in honor of the _princess._ Stalyan, though typically able to hold her liquor considerably well, had begun to feel a bit dizzy (not to mention, a bit self-loathing, though she would never admit to such a thing).

In the wake of fuzzy vision and a head which felt as though it were swimming fifty feet underwater, Stalyan had decided to take a deplorably lonely walk around the castle. She'd felt desperate to escape the suffocating walls of her tiny bedroom, which had seemed to be all but caving in around her. When she'd run into the _princess_ walking there alone in the hallway with her own pitiful, self-deprecating expression etched across her juvenile face, Stalyan simply couldn't help herself. In her slightly blurred vision and unchecked jealousy, nothing could've been more satisfying than ruffling the princess's perfectly-laid feathers.

What Stalyan had said to the princess, is true: she _does_ miss the taste of Flynn, in a way that she's never missed a man before. The last time she'd tasted his lips upon hers, was the night before their wedding day. His mouth had tasted like alcohol and apprehension, and she'd brushed off the tentative look in his eyes as pre-wedding jitters. But the next day, standing there in a white dress, Stalyan would find that he was missing. The officiant would announce that, under _'unforeseen circumstances,'_ the groom would not be attending the ceremony today. As if that weren't bad enough, he would _remain_ missing for the day after that, and the day after that, and so on. Stalyan wouldn't see Flynn again until just recently, living easy in the castle that he'd always wanted, with a too-young-for-him princess who would be laced deep into his heart – so deep, that Stalyan knows she alone will never be enough to cut the two of them loose.

There is a second truth in which Stalyan had spoken to the princess last night: the princess is a first-class coward, as the Baron's daughter had so bluntly suggested in her slightly intoxicated, self-loathing stupor. To Stalyan's surprise, the princess had actually fought back a little. She'd fought back – that is, until Flynn had shown up, and fought her battle _for her_. Though, Stalyan supposes, if it had ever been an option, she would've let Flynn fight her battles for her, too. But it never was, and he never did. Flynn had been incredibly advanced at fighting _with_ Stalyan, but not particularly skilled at fighting for her.

There was something very haunting about the harsh words in which Flynn had left her to wallow in: _'If you ever lay so much as a finger on her again, I swear... no,_ _ **I**_ _ **promise**_ _… I will personally come after you. And I can guarantee that you won't fucking like it.'_

Flynn had never _threatened_ Stalyan before, despite their hazardous history together. Sure, they'd knowingly engaged themselves in some pretty volatile arguments at the toxic height of their relationship. But he'd never once laid a hand on her, or even attempted to. Flynn was an untrustworthy, selfish, egotistical son-of-a-bitch, but one thing he _never_ was, is abusive. He would lose his cool sometimes, but only when provoked, and his unusual bouts of genuine anger typically wouldn't last for very long. Regardless, the two of them had gotten into it with one another plenty of times – enough times for Flynn to hurt her, if he'd wanted to. Last night wasn't the first time that they'd been up in each other's faces, begging for their raw emotions to splatter across the walls in the most devastating scene.

But it _was_ the first time that Flynn has ever threatened her. And with the dripping candlewax of the chandeliers flickering above them, and the princess tucked against his chest, accepting the protection which she does not _deserve_ … it was almost laughable. It was almost laughable, because Flynn had gotten everything they'd ever talked about having _together –_ now, he has it with _her_. It was almost laughable, because Stalyan couldn't help but come to the pitiful conclusion that Flynn had _never_ , not even _once_ , dared to threaten another person on her behalf – and it wasn't because he hadn't had plenty of opportunities to do so, because he had. They'd gotten themselves into enough sticky situations for him to defend her honor a thousand times over, if he'd really wanted to.

And maybe, Stalyan realizes, _that's_ the difference between her and the princess – the princess, in Flynn's eyes, is _worth_ _protecting_ – and she is not. This notion leaves a bitter flavor in Stalyan's mouth which she will have to swallow down, no matter how bad the aftertaste on her tongue.

She's just not sure how to.

The pressing problem is – regardless of the raging jealousy and insecure comparison blowing through her body like the unforgiving winds of a hurricane – Stalyan finally coming to the realization that Flynn truly _does_ love the princess, does not make Stalyan love _him_ any less, or really even want to leave the castle any more. There is a twisted part of her, in which knowing that he really _is_ in love with someone else, only makes Stalyan want Flynn more. Perhaps, this is because Stalyan has a clinical problem with not being able to turn away from a presented competition, regardless of how detrimental the battle may be for both parties.

But, Stalyan knows now, this isn't a game to him. This is not a competition – to him, there is no true comparison to be made. In a room full of every woman that Flynn has ever been with, the events of last night have made one thing very clear – he would run to Rapunzel immediately, and bury himself so far into her, that every other woman would simply cease to exist. There is something so clear now, a message so palpable: _he would kill for the princess._ Stalyan could see it in his eyes, could see it in the way that he pulled the princess flush to his body at the height of danger. This isn't a grand, well-planned scheme, devised to steal something of ever-present value from the royal family.

No – this is an issue of pathetic, true, make-you-feel-like-you're-losing-your-mind – _love_. And Flynn, if last night's events have made _anything_ clear, is neck deep in it.

And Stalyan, neck deep in consideration as she sits on the window ledge, dangling her feet against the stone castle wall, has found herself at a dangerous crossroads – two paths staring back at her, beckoning her into the deep, dark forest. Stalyan had once thought her love with Flynn to be evergreen. But it had turned out to be a wicked, decaying hoax, unable to survive the harsh winter. And maybe, _that's_ why they aren't married today as they should've been, and why Flynn has fallen in love with another woman – their love was never truly meant to endure the odds stacked against them. But his love for the princess _is_ , if their little affair has proven anything.

This thought causes Stalyan's stomach to drop to her feet, because she'd always thought herself to be _'the one.'_ Flynn was her fated romance, and Stalyan his – his star-crossed, epic love story – a love which would always find its way back, regardless of the time which has passed. Now, the princess has placed this title of _'the one'_ upon her own shoulders – much like the crown on her head, which she has done virtually nothing to deserve.

So, which path will Stalyan choose? She could lay her relationship with Flynn to rest, could simply end this chapter of her life without putting up too much of a fuss. After all, their story has drawn out of them more badly written epilogues than either party can properly recall. Perhaps it's time that they close this book, once and for all.

Stalyan could let Flynn and the princess carry on with their badly hidden affair, their little sex-induced escapade. She could allow them to keep playing Charles like a sorry violin, could leave the three of them to deal with the aftermath of the inevitable, adulterous explosion for themselves. She could keep everything that she knows to herself, and finally move on. After all, moving on from him, is something that Stalyan should have done for herself a _long_ time ago.

And she could do it, if she really wanted to. She's a strong, independent woman – strong enough to finally let him go. She's seen him one last time, has received the bluntly-spoken closure which she's secretly always wanted. Stalyan could walk away right now, with minimal involvement, and minimal damage to her own heart.

She _could_. She should. But then again, Stalyan has never been one to take the boring, easy way out of any situation. No – if her father has taught her anything, it's that you always leave people with a memory of you which cannot be forgotten. And sometimes, the only way to effectively _do_ that, is through the spirit of _fear_.

Stalyan could move on. She could give Flynn something that she never could have given him directly: a chance at his happily ever after – happily ever after, _with the princess._ Or – and this is the more _interesting_ path – Stalyan could use the information that she knows to her advantage, and she could feed the princess a taste of her own medicine.

And Charles… well, Charles has his own motives, his own plans, his own desires. Jealousy-inspired plans which Stalyan, frankly, doesn't want anything to do with – mostly because Charles appears to be hanging by a thread which reads: _'potentially unhinged.'_ Then again, the poor guy hasn't gotten laid in _months_ , so his unhinged behavior is understandable. Perhaps Stalyan could help him in moving his plans along just a _little_ faster than expected – even if those plans are typically beyond the purview of her moral compass.

Not that Stalyan has much of a moral compass, anyway.

' _This will destroy him. If I do this, Flynn will hate me. Well, he already hates me. What more do I have to lose, really? And if_ _ **I**_ _can't have him, if I have to live in hell… I'm bringing the princess right down with me.'_

After all, Stalyan had played a significant role in shaping who Flynn Rider _is_ – in helping him to become one of the most notorious thieves in the Seven Kingdoms. If Stalyan had never met him, he never would have had the thieving success in which he still proclaims to this day. If it weren't for Stalyan, for her introducing him to her father, Flynn's name wouldn't be _nearly_ as internationally recognizable as it is.

And what has he done to repay her? Leave her at the altar and fall in love with a teenage princess who has a naivety complex, and enough childhood trauma and emotional baggage to suffice for _ten_ women. But, Stalyan supposes, if _she_ had the king and queen of Corona on her side – pardoning each of her most detestable crimes – and ballrooms to dance in, and expensive clothes to wear, and the potential of a crown being placed upon _her_ head one day… she would choose the princess, too.

Echoing footsteps drag Stalyan from the evergreen forest of her self-sabotaging thoughts, and she realizes that there is no remaining time to reminisce, no time to contemplate. Now, Stalyan must decide which path she will take: the right one, or the interesting one.

Revenge has always tasted particularly good on the tongue of the Baron's daughter, if she has inherited any certain traits from her father – much better than ' _doing the right thing._ ' Stalyan, she reasons with herself, has no moral obligation to the princess, no obligation to protect her from Charles's deepest desires and jealousy-induced plotting. She is not the princess's keeper, and if _Flynn_ wants to keep her, he's going to have to sleep in the bed that he's made.

In the early morning sunlight, Charles appears at the top of the spiral staircase which leads to the highest point of the tucked-away tower. His eyes are downcast, rimmed with the lasting effects of a head-pounding hangover. Regal clothes are not pressed as usual, steamed to stark perfection. Actually, they're a bit rumpled, as if he'd slept in them.

"You look like shit." Stalyan murmurs bluntly, staring at the prince in surprise – staring at his deep-set eye bags, his tousled hair – all of which are very unlike his typically well-groomed, tidy self.

"I got your note." Charles rubs at his face and sits beside her on the ledge, and Stalyan notes the tense slope of his shoulders. "This better be important. I have a very busy schedule this morning, and I don't really have time for pointless chit-chat –"

" _Someone_ woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I see. What? Didn't get your _beauty sleep_ , your Highness?"

The prince looks to Stalyan with an aggravated scowl, his mouth pressed into a hard frown.

"I didn't sleep last night. Meaning, I'm very much not in the mood for your snarky attitude today, thank you. What's so important that it required me to climb all the way up here? _Again_."

"We need to talk." Stalyan sighs, her own shoulders tensing when she realizes that she cannot avoid this any longer.

_Path number two, it is._

"There's something about the princess that you should know."

Charles turns his nose up in the air at that, recalling the previous night's disastrous events for himself. He doesn't remember the entirety of the conversation which he'd had with Rapunzel in their bedroom after the party that he'd _pointlessly_ thrown for her. But he _does_ remember calling the princess a particularly harsh word, and he can clearly recall the way that she'd stormed out of the room, and hadn't returned to their bed at all that night. Actually, he hasn't seen her since the argument, not even a swish of her skirts around a corner, or her petite form hunched over her easel on the balcony.

Though, Charles can make an educated guess about where she is – or, more precisely, _who_ she's with.

But there is a hopeful, yearning part of Charles, a part of him which refuses to believe that Rapunzel would indulge in such immoral behavior, as he'd drunkenly suggested. This naïve (and perhaps, _delusional_ ), love-struck part of him – lying there alone in the cold bedsheets last night, willing the room to stop spinning – had tried to convince the _rest_ of him that she really _had_ spent her night alone in the library, and nothing more.

After all, Rapunzel has every right to be furious with him, after the way he'd acted. Charles knows that. But this doesn't mean that he isn't irate with _her_ – it _does_ mean that he detests Rapunzel's inability to stay in her own damn bed.

"I'm not so sure that I want to hear about her right now."

Stalyan turns the gold bracelet over in her hands one last time, slipping the sentimental piece of jewelry back into her pocket, before turning to the conflicted prince – who, somehow, appears even more hung over than she does.

"I think you're going to want to hear this."

* * *

After watching the sunrise in bed together, and after pulling on their crumpled day clothes (which had been thrown to the floor of his bedroom in a lust-driven carelessness the previous night), Eugene leads Rapunzel to the palace stables. He saddles Max, lifting Rapunzel to the trusty horse's back. The princess leans down to Max's well-groomed mane, placing a gentle kiss there, and he nudges her cheek lovingly back. It's been a while since they've been able to see one another.

Eugene knows that taking her from the palace grounds likely isn't his smartest idea. But, after the events of the previous night, he's feeling a bit testy – perhaps, a little _too_ testy for his own good.

They pass a few guards on their way through the front gates, but each of them turn the other cheek, marching away as if they hadn't just seen the princess leaving the castle with a man _who_ _isn't her husband_. Perhaps, Eugene reckons, he has made a few friends around here after all. At the very least, there are a few people who aren't hard-pressed to keep the princess out of his arms, in the way that it feels as though _everyone else_ has attempted to do in the last four months.

Once they've reached the village's cobblestone streets, Rapunzel twists her head to eye Eugene with a soft smile, shifting comfortably between his legs, pressing her back to his chest.

"Where are we going?"

A knowing smile tugs at Eugene's lips, and he squeezes her hip with one hand, expertly holding the reigns in the other.

"You'll see."

After a leisure ride through the bustling kingdom, Rapunzel finally realizes their destination: a vast expanse of meadow on the very outskirts of the village, hidden by a thick tree line. Eugene had showed her this peaceful spot long ago, in the midst of their overwhelming first few weeks of living in the castle.

They'd snuck away to this meadow enough times since then to know that, if they lead one another here, it's because they've been yearning for a moment alone together – away from the hectic air of the castle, away from the prodding eyes, away from the overbearing expectations. This is a place in which they can simply breathe one another in, and lie on their backs, watching the clouds go by or the stars twinkle overhead, talking about their future together as though they had a clue of the hell that was to come.

And what future do they have now? This notion remains completely uncertain. But this doesn't stop Eugene from gently lifting Rapunzel by the hips from Max's saddle, leaving the loyal horse with a small bag of apples to graze on. Eugene clasps the princess's hand in his own, pulling her gently away from the tree line. He leads them to a single willow tree, which stands tall in the swaying grass – weeping there alone in the grand expanse of the field.

A single-person, wooden swing rocks slightly in the chilly breeze, back and forth, beckoning Rapunzel in before pulling away again. Eugene drops her hand, and she misses his touch immediately. He makes his way to the colossal tree, and Rapunzel follows (mostly because she would follow him just about anywhere). Regardless of the cool breeze, the sun is shining brightly, enveloping Rapunzel in a halo of light – it's always been as though the sun is more attracted to her, than she is attracted to it.

Rapunzel watches intently as Eugene stands behind the swing, holding it still for her. He looks to his princess with a small smile – a wordless invitation to sit down. She walks tentatively to him, her skirts pulling behind her in the soft wind, bunching them around her waist in a mass of tulle and silk as she sits down on the swing. The princess can't think of anywhere else that she would rather be, than in this never-ending meadow of nostalgia with the man that she loves.

"We haven't been here in a while." Rapunzel comments, her voice carrying a special kind of aching sadness. There is a melancholy within her which cannot quite be cured – unless there is a cure which involves Eugene getting down on one knee, and asking her to be his forever.

And it doesn't look like that's going to happen anytime soon. Or – more realistically – ever.

"I know." Eugene responds, gently beginning to push her in the swing. "I just... I thought that, what with the court being closed until later this afternoon, and what with your parents being away until tomorrow… I could take you away from everything, for old time's sake."

Eugene leans forward to whisper into Rapunzel's ear, recalling the sorrowful words that she'd cried into his neck last night, recalling the way that she'd so heartbreakingly sobbed, _'I just want things to go back to the way they were!'_

"So things could be like they were… just for a little while."

The princess's feet rise off the ground and her hands grip the ropes wrapped around the thick branch overhead. Rapunzel feels Eugene's hands gently on her back, using her body to gain momentum from the swing, lifting her higher. After only a little while of continually rising in the air, Rapunzel is swinging so high, that she swears her bare feet could kiss the sky if she wanted them to.

A laugh bubbles up in her chest, sent to the clouds above – clouds that look close enough to touch. She looks back at Eugene, quickly falling through the air and rushing past him, before rising up, up, up again. He's laughing too, a quiet laugh, a laugh that says, _'I'm so in love with you, and I couldn't keep it off my face if I tried.'_

"I'm going to jump!" Rapunzel shrieks, feeling her stomach drop as she careens back toward the ground.

For the first time in months, soaring through the air on this swing, feeling his fingers at her back, urging her higher… Rapunzel feels truly alive. She feels free, and hopeful, and devastated, and pathetically in love, all at once. And somehow, despite that lingering, dull ache in her heart, she feels _like herself again._

She wants to feel _everything_.

"What?" Eugene yells back, and Rapunzel rushes past him again, the mass of skirts and flailing legs whipping wildly by.

"I'm going to jump!"

His eyes widen, and he reaches both hands out, as if to catch her before she even leaves the swing.

"Blondie, I really don't think that's such a good —"

But it's too late. His sorry attempts to reign her spirited nature have always fallen on dead lips, and Eugene wouldn't want it any other way. When the swing is at its highest peak of motion, Rapunzel is already soaring away from him, the rough ropes free from the white knuckles which had held them tight.

She screams, the widest of grins on her face – Rapunzel screams for her life, for her freedom, for the leftover wreckage of the last four months, and for the way that she feels when she's with him – everything that is good, and warm, and pure.

The moment of perfect freedom is over just as soon as it begins, and the soaring princess tumbles to the ground in a heap of dress and wind-milling limbs – a far cry from landing gracefully on her feet, as she'd hoped that she would. But the meadow grass, though not as vibrant as it is in the summer months, forms a blanket around the crash-landed princess, and Rapunzel feels no apparent pain as she lands in its soft cushioning. She rolls a few times before coming to a panting stop, lying on her back, breathless in the dying grass.

Just last night, Rapunzel had wondered if _she_ was dying – dying on the inside, choked by the hands of her unforgiving circumstance. Now, she knows that she most definitely is _not_ dying.

As long as she's with him, she is not.

She stays that way, completely still, arms flailed about beside her, palms flat on the ground, as if trying to determine if she were in a dream – trying to determine if any of this is truly real, running the grass through her fingertips for a grasp on something tangible. Rapunzel fixes her gaze upon the bright blue sky, pondering what it would be like to live upon the clouds that float effortlessly by. She wonders what it would be like to have no worries at all – to never have to worry about anything being taken from you again.

"Sunshine?" Eugene rushes from the swing as it flaps wildly in the air, recovering from the sudden takeoff, the sudden loss of weight. It swings back and forth, hauntingly empty, as though it were a lonely lover, recovering from the loss of their beloved.

Eugene crouches over the still princess, concern pulling at the corners of his lips, tugging them downward. His head blocks the glittering rays of the sun from her eyes, and Rapunzel realizes that she never wants to live another moment without the comfort of his shadowed protection. The princess appears to be in a paralyzed daze, which only deepens the worry lines etched across Eugene's face. He leans downward, running a hand through her hair, as if to snap her from her lulled state.

"Are you okay?"

She simply looks up at him, searching Eugene's handsome face for a long moment, before bursting into an adorable fit of giggles – the uncontrollable kind, which he has longed to hear falling from her lips for far too long. Rapunzel watches, amused, as his chest heaves a sigh of utter relief. Eugene hangs his head, shaking it, his bangs brushing his face like perfectly fallen dominos – though, his hair isn't enough to hide that broad, true smile of his which she loves so much.

He makes to stand, but Rapunzel reaches for his hand, briefly studying the contrast of Eugene's calloused palm against her soft one. He doesn't deserve a guardian angel, doesn't deserve such a perfect girl – a girl who quite literally _saved him_ from the destruction, the self-sabotage, the longing for something unidentifiable – the longing for something _more_. He doesn't deserve her at all, not after the life that he's led. But he has her anyway.

Rapunzel's voice leaves her mouth softer than the palm of her hand, her face enveloped in the golden glow of the morning sunlight, and Eugene swears that it _must_ be an angel talking to him.

"I think I'm the most okay that I've been in a long time."

Now, it's Eugene's turn to take a long moment to look her over, to take her in. What he's looking for, she isn't sure, but he returns to his knees in the grass, his figure hanging over hers, as if to say that he would haunt her forever if she couldn't have him anymore – and he would. She knows that he would.

Reaching down, Eugene's fingers carefully – _cautiously_ – feel the ends of her dark hair, making their way to her cheek, caressing it as gently as a whisper. Rapunzel can feel her heart beating against her ribcage, and the entire world goes still – save for the infrequent caws of a murder of crows perched in the weeping willow, watching.

Rapunzel watches Eugene just as closely as the crows do – watches as he leans down, and touches his lips to hers. An immediate warmth pools in her stomach as Eugene's tongue quickly slips into her mouth. Like the swing gaining momentum in only a moment, their kisses shift from gentle to needy, long before Rapunzel has the chance to take a proper breath. She hears the rustling of skirts before feeling his hand against her calf, waiting for her approval, tentatively traveling to her knee before resting between her legs – the place where she truly yearns for him.

"I want you." She whimpers low and quiet, just for the two of them to hear. This isn't the first time that these crows, and this willow, and this wilting grass, have seen their desperate show of affection. "Please."

Eugene smiles knowingly, fully intending to play dumb – dipping a hand into her underwear, completely understanding the power which he holds over her in moments like this.

"You didn't have enough of me last night, Princess?"

' _No. No, no, no. Never enough of you.'_

Rapunzel shakes her head rapidly, reaching upward to find some purchase in his hair, preparing herself for the overwhelming feeling that's about to bombard her. But before she can feel the pure bliss of his fingers between her thighs, there's a sudden thrash in the underbrush, leaves crunched and branches cracked beneath frantic feet. The crows scatter, cawing a loud warning as they go. Eugene quickly rises, pulling Rapunzel along with him, their heads turning to see Cassandra breaking away from the tree line in a desperate run, making her way to where the young lovers stand in the middle of the open field, her equally-as-jumpy horse waiting beside a patient Max.

Rapunzel notes the way that Eugene's demeanor immediately shifts, harboring a harsh seriousness, as if what they'd just been doing were only a distant memory, slipped away between their fingertips. The breeze stops suddenly, and the long, browning grass ceases to sway, as if to promise its silence — as if promising not to tell of their secret desire, of their forbidden kisses.

A panting Cassandra finally halts to a stop before them, her ribcage heaving, her lungs burning with an uneasy energy. She rests her palms on her knees to catch her breath, hanging her head between them.

"Cass!" Rapunzel exclaims, surprised to see her dear friend here, in she and Eugene's hidden spot, so far from the palace grounds. The princess immediately wonders if something has happened to her parents on the road, or if a disaster has occurred at the castle in her selfish absence. "What's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"He knows." The winded lady-in-waiting manages to breathe out, her head still dipped between her legs, desperately willing her body to even its breathing.

" _Who_ knows —"

"He _knows_." Cassandra repeats, looking up to Rapunzel with wide, concerned eyes. "And he's pissed. Like, _really_ pissed. He's losing his mind, Raps."

_Charles._

Eugene turns away from the two young women, covering his mouth for a moment before rubbing his hands over his face, the reality of the situation washing over him. This feeling which hits him like a ton of bricks, is worse than a bad hangover, worse than catching a horrible fever. He starts to pace in the grass, as if he's trying to decide what to do, his eyebrows pushed close together in a curious mixture of determination and anxiety.

A promising stream of bile threatens to rise in Rapunzel's throat, so she swallows hard. This is not the time to be sick. This is not the time to be scared, trapped-in-the-tower Rapunzel. Now, she must be Princess Rapunzel. She must face the consequence of her reckless decisions – decisions which felt so right in the delusional moment of love and lust, but so wrong in reality.

"How... how did he find out? W-who, I mean… what did he say?"

"He was too upset to really speak _coherently_. But Stalyan was loitering around, so I'm sure you can put those pieces together." The lady-in-waiting comments with a displeased roll of her eyes.

If she weren't such a good friend, Cass would say, _'I told you so.'_ After all, Cassandra, an ever-present judge of character, had procured a bad feeling about Stalyan from the moment that the malicious looking woman had stepped foot into the castle.

"Fuck." Eugene breathes into his hands, before running them through his hair distressfully.

"Eugene..." Rapunzel starts, releasing an exasperated, tense sigh.

" _Fuck!_ " A frustrated Eugene continues to pace, his eyes focused hard on the ground. He suddenly grabs Rapunzel's arm, hastily leading her to the tree line where Max is waiting patiently for them. "Come on, Blondie."

"Eugene, what're you doing —"

"We need to settle this. Once and for all. I'm fed up with sneaking around and with pretending that any of this is okay, that any of this is _normal!_ It's _not_ normal. You and I, we both deserve better than this fucked up situation. I never should've let us get into it in the first place. I never should've let you be with…"

Eugene goes on, mumbling something incoherent as Rapunzel yanks her forearm from his grasp, anger slowly rising in her own body — more at their circumstance than at her love. In her escalating rage, tears begin to well in the princess's eyes.

They'd always known this day would come, eventually. Eugene had said so himself. They'd known. Their secrets could not be guarded forever, no matter how badly they wanted them to be.

Why does it hurt so much, then? Why is an undeniable, painful anxiety rising in Rapunzel's throat at the thought of finally facing the reality of their situation?

"Eugene, I can't... I can't lose you! I can't do this without you!"

"Hey. You won't. Look at me." Eugene takes her by the jaw, a determined look etched across his handsome face. "Rapunzel, _look at me._ "

She does, though she doesn't want to.

"You are _not_ going to lose me, Sunshine. I promise."

He tries to take her into his arms, but Rapunzel pushes him away, the pure stress of the moment boiling over, burning the inside of her body.

"It's against the rules to break a promise, Eugene! You _know_ that! You can't promise things that you can't _keep!_ "

Eugene sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers.

"Have I ever broken a promise to you before?"

"Well… no, but –"

He cuts her off, looking to her with a pleading expression.

"Look, Blondie... we need to face this. Our lies have caught up with us, alright? There's nothing more that we can do now, except for stick together in this."

Rapunzel's mind rapidly searches for a better solution, desperate to keep him from the hurt which she knows is about to overrun their lives – as if it hasn't already.

"We... we can run away! Yes, that's what we _have_ to do, Eugene! We can go, right now! We don't even have to go back to the castle. We can run away, just like you said, and we can finally be together, and we'll —"

Eugene quickly takes her by the hands, squeezing them firmly, a pained smile gracing his lips.

"No. No, Rapunzel, that is not the right answer to our problem. _This_ is where you belong. Right here, in this kingdom. You know it, I know it. We are adults, who decided to have an affair. Now, your husband _knows_ about said affair. And we need to face him, like adults. Okay? We have to."

Rapunzel nods, her shoulders sagging in defeat, and she feels a single tear escape and roll down her cheek, because she just can't hold it in any longer.

"I'm just so scared. I'm scared of being without you." Rapunzel sobs, only once, allowing Eugene to take her into his arms. She presses her forehead to his chest, because she can't stand to look him in the eyes – completed terrified that today might be the last time she'll be able to.

"I know. I know you are." Eugene pulls back, cupping her cheeks softly. "But hey, I love you. No matter what happens when we get back to the castle… I will _always_ love you, and I'm never leaving you. He's going to have to kill me before I leave you. And everything is going to be alright."

_Don't say I promise, don't say I promise –_

"I promise."

_Dammit._

Rapunzel hastily wipes the hot, anxious tears from her eyes, squares her shoulders, and takes Eugene's hand into hers.

"Okay. I'm ready."

The determined look on her gorgeous, tear-stained face, is almost enough to make Eugene chuckle – and he would, if he wasn't about to face the asshole who has taken the only thing that he's ever truly cared about, and has continually rubbed it in his face.

But, Eugene knows – secrets cannot hide forever, _and neither can they._

* * *

There is a broken, priceless vase lying on the marble floor, shattered into a thousand, tiny pieces. Charles has a _second_ vase hanging high over his head, shaking in his furious hands, moments from being flung to the floor in his desperation to release his outrage.

Charles knows that he will probably be in big trouble for damaging the valuable goods of the royal family. But hasn't someone else already damaged the _princess_ – the most valuable good? So, he deserves a little recklessness, too.

But then, _he_ walks in. And she walks in with him, her tiny hand enveloped in his. And suddenly, the vase doesn't matter so much anymore, because Charles's desired target has finally arrived.

Eyes narrow and fists clench, and Charles is determined to sink his teeth into something – _someone_.

" _You_."

"Me?" Eugene raises his hands in a sarcastic defense, willing to take all the blow for this one, as long as Charles doesn't turn on Rapunzel.

As long as the prince doesn't hurt her, Eugene doesn't care what happens to him.

"You piece of shit _home wrecker!_ "

Eugene almost laughs as Charles comes barreling across the small sitting room in which he's ultimately decided to proceed in this tantrum of his, after his particularly _insightful_ conversation with the Baron's daughter in the hidden tower.

_Almost_. But Eugene holds the chuckle back, swallows it down – swallows it down in the same way that he has swallowed down the agony of the last four months, nearly choking on the feeling of being away from her, all thanks to the hysterical young prince standing before him.

"Last time I checked, Charles, you can't wreck a home that was never built in the first place."

Charles twists his face in an ugly display of pure rage, and Rapunzel wonders if it's too late to grab Eugene's hand, drag him from the castle, and never look back.

"You arrogant, good for _nothing_ —"

"Hey! Don't talk to him like that!"

Charles turns to Rapunzel, eyes rimmed with a resentment so strong – a resentment which the princess has never seen on another person's face before. Despite herself, and despite her respectively growing anger, Rapunzel shrinks back, edging as close to Eugene as possible – wanting nothing more than to be tucked into his back pocket, safe with him forever.

"Oh, _do_ stay out of this, Rapunzel! I will be dealing with _you_ later, you little –"

Eugene, suddenly on the verge of losing his own cool at the hands of Charles's possessive tone, steps in front of Rapunzel, shielding her from the prince's line of vision. Because Charles doesn't deserve her – his fingers don't deserve her skin, his eyes don't deserve her beauty, his miserableness does not deserve the pureness of her heart – he doesn't deserve a single _hair_ upon her perfect head.

Eugene reasons, he probably doesn't deserve her either. But at least he loves her. At least he would die for her.

"No. You _won't_. You're not going to touch her, or talk to her… or even _look_ at her in the wrong way."

Charles lets out a hearty laugh at that.

"Really, you should be thanking me. You should be _thanking_ me for still wanting her, after she's been..." Charles waves his hand, twisting his face into a look of disgust. "After she's been _defiled_ by someone like you."

"You're right. Thank you." Eugene grinds, the dense sarcasm dripping from his lips. "Thank you for marrying the love of my life."

Charles grins – a wicked grin. An _'I can drive you crazy, and I'm going to enjoy doing it'_ kind of grin.

"And _there_ it is."

"There it is."

The prince steps closer to the two lovers, looking each of them up and down with a loathing gaze. Charles reaches forward, lifting a finger beneath Rapunzel's chin which she swats away, burying her face into Eugene's shoulder in hopes of keeping herself from her husband – who, less than twenty-four hours ago, had called her a whore and tightly gripped her wrists in his drunken state. If only Eugene knew about _that_ , this conversation would not be quite so domesticated.

Charles only smiles, turning back to a fuming Eugene with the ease of a calm anger – the kind of anger which threatens to explode at any moment.

"So, how does it feel to know that you have to fuck another man's wife? Can't get anyone else's attention, Fitzherbert?"

"I don't know." Eugene shrugs nonchalantly, crossing his arms over his chest in a furiously casual manner. "How does it feel to know that your 'wife' will always want _someone else?_ "

He shouldn't have said it. Really, he shouldn't have.

" _Ugh!_ "

Charles yells in his anger, throwing a punch which seamlessly connects with Eugene's mouth, as if the prince were trying to shove the provoking comment back inside.

Rapunzel screams, reaching for Eugene's hand as he staggers, but doesn't fall to the floor. Touching his split lip in shock, Eugene feels the blood beginning to pool in his mouth, inspecting the thick, red liquid on his fingers when he pulls them away.

Eugene looks up to Charles for a long moment. The prince simply stands there, clearly feeling _very_ proud of himself. But the moment of pride is short-lived, because in no more than a moment, Eugene is surging forward to tackle Charles to the ground, pressing a well-aimed fist into the prince's gut, sucking the air from his lungs completely.

"Eugene!"

Both men struggle to stand, each trying to find their footing again, heaving forward in a flurry of angry insults and narrowly dodged punches.

"Rapunzel… get… back!" Eugene yells, swatting his hand behind him, begging her to keep herself away from the swinging fists and flailing limbs, despite her desire to step between them – to keep Eugene from getting hurt any further.

"You son…of… a _bitch!_ " Charles screams in the midst of the struggle, throwing a punch which Eugene expertly evades. "You stole my wife, _you_ _fucking thief!_ "

"I don't steal shit anymore, buddy!" With that, Eugene throws a punch of his own, which connects with the edge of Charles's jaw. "I just kept what was _already MINE!_ "

As if responding to the profanity-peppered yelling of the two men, the doors to the small sitting room burst open, and the _king and queen_ are standing there.

Frederic and Arianna rush inside, despite the fact that they are still supposed to be deep in the countryside, celebrating their anniversary. And instead, here they are, wide-eyed and bewildered, as Eugene throws another punch at Charles's gritted teeth.

"Eugene!" Arianna exclaims, clear concern etched across her face – the genuine concern of a mother.

"Come on, son. That's enough!" King Frederic rushes forward, pulling Eugene back, wrapping his arms under the young man's armpits in attempts to pry him from the still-swinging prince.

"You're better than this!"

Eugene thrashes and pulls, trying his best to escape the king's iron grip.

"No, I'm not! You think I am, but I'm _not_." Eugene swipes at his bleeding lip with his sleeve, the blood a bright contrast against the stark white of his shirt. "I'm defending your daughter's honor like a champ! Now let me go! Let me at that _bastard!_ "

Rapunzel, her heart pounding in her chest, turns to her mother, who has a particularly bemused look on her face.

"Mom! Why… why are you _here?_ You're still supposed to be –"

"Experiencing a mother's intuition deep in the countryside and coming home a day early? And I'm glad that I did! Sweetheart, what on _earth_ is going on here?"

Arianna motions to the broken vase on the floor, to Eugene's bleeding mouth – and Rapunzel realizes that she has absolutely no explanation – not one that won't drag her and Eugene into a deep pile of trouble that they won't be able to dig themselves out of.

"I –" Rapunzel's face falls, eyes trained upon Charles and Eugene as the two young men continue yelling back and forth. "Would you believe me if I told you that Eugene tried to steal his crown?"

"No, honey, I wouldn't believe –"

"Always need someone else fighting your battles for you, huh, Fitzherbert?"

"Oh, _fuck you_ , buddy! I could take you any day, any time!"

"No, fuck _you!_ You _took_ something of mine, and you actually thought that you were going to get away with it! You thought that I wouldn't find out! And everyone says you've changed? Give me a break! You're still nothing more than a _thief!_ Always will be!"

"She wasn't yours to take! She never _WAS!_ You know, a diamond ring and a marriage certificate, doesn't mean shit if _she_ doesn't want it to! You know it, I know it!" Eugene continues to thrash in Frederic's hands, his voice seething with a warranted hatred. "All of it. It doesn't. Mean. _Shit_."

The sitting room falls silent – an eerie quiet – save from the heavy breathing of Eugene and Charles as they recover from their sparring. Everyone here knows the bitter truth – can taste it on their tongue –including Charles: _Rapunzel belongs to Eugene_. She always has, and she always will. There is no ring, no marriage vows, and no legal agreement between two kingdoms, which can change that. There is no breaking their bond, there is no keeping them apart – not while they're living under the same roof – and probably, not even if they weren't.

When Charles finally breaks the silence, his voice sounds like sharp pieces of glass shattering on the floor around them – much like the vase at their feet, which he'd thrown in his bitter outrage.

"You know what doesn't mean shit, Fitzherbert? _You_. Because at the end of the day, _I'm_ the one who's married to her. Whether you like it or not, _I_ am her husband."

' _Maybe that's true. But she was moaning_ _ **my**_ _name while she came last night – so tell me, Charles, what really matters more here?'_

That's what Eugene _wants_ to say.

That's what he's dying to say. But he swallows the crude comment down – not because it isn't true, but because Frederic is standing directly behind him, and Eugene assumes that fucking his daughter won't particularly earn him any brownie points with the king – regardless of the close relationship which they've procured since Eugene moved into the castle over a year ago.

"That's _right_ … you're her _husband_. How's that been working out for you so far?"

"Oh, you are _lucky_ , Fitzherbert. You are lucky that the king and queen are here, or else I would kick your _ass!_ "

"I'd like to see you try! I've spent more time in jail than you've spent _tying your own damn shoes!_ "

This earns Eugene a pointed look from the king, but he's too pissed off to truly care.

" _Please_ , do not say that in front of me…"

Arianna tugs at her daughter's elbow, motioning to the door of the sitting room – the sitting room which is now overflowing with testosterone, and jealousy, and just the slightest twinge of _'I will kill you in your sleep'_ fuming from the ears of both parties.

"Come, Rapunzel, let's go. You shouldn't have to hear this —"

" _No!_ I'm not leaving Eugene."

" _Sweetheart_. Let your father handle this." Arianna looks to her daughter with pleading eyes. " _Please_."

"Alright." Rapunzel concedes, albeit reluctantly, allowing her mother to pull her gently from the tension-filled room.

The three men watch them go. When the door has clicked shut behind them, Frederic looks between both Eugene and Charles, his face stoic, though concerned.

"Would one of you like to tell me what the _hell_ is going on here?"

"He stole her –"

"Oh, _I_ stole her? You can't steal what's already yours!"

"But she's _my_ wife –"

"Enough!" Frederic booms, waving his hands to silence the two younger men. " _Enough_. One at a time."

Charles steps forward with narrowed eyes, motioning to the door.

"Your daughter has been waltzing around this palace, acting positively like a…" _Don't say it. Don't say it, don't say it –_ "Like a _whore_."

" _What_ did you just say?!" Eugene exclaims, rushing the prince, Rapunzel's tear-induced question from the previous night finally making a bit more sense.

_That's_ where she'd heard it from, really. That's why she was so worried about her reputation, about what her people would think of her. This _asshole_ planted that horrible, horrible thought into her sweet head.

But before Eugene can get to the prince and pound some sense into him, Frederic yanks at the back of his collar, holding him back. The king is listening intently, his face almost blank as Charles continues hysterically.

"You heard me! She's been fooling around with this, this... good-for-nothing _THIEF_ behind the back of her very own _husband!_ "

The king sucks in a deep breath, looking between the two men, as if contemplating what to do in such a sticky situation as this.

Eugene silently wonders if his neck is about to be hanging around a noose in, say, fifteen minutes. There's probably a copy of his signed execution order still lying around somewhere. It seems as though this would be the _perfect_ situation, in which a father as overprotective as Frederic, would exhume such things.

But the king simply pinches the bridge of his nose, turning to Eugene with a sour, defeated look.

"Eugene... follow me. _Now_."

"But sir! What about —"

Turning back to a furious Charles, King Frederic steps close to the young prince, his voice having turned hostile and low.

"Charles... I will deal with _you_ later. And in the meantime, let's get one thing _very_ clear," Frederic glowers down at the young prince, a look of detestment in his eyes which is strong enough to rival the rage of Eugene and Charles combined. "You may, by law, be my daughter's husband, but you are not a part of this family. And if you _ever_ speak of my little girl in such an inappropriate manner again, I will not be as kind as to hold Mr. Fitzherbert back. Are we clear?"

Charles nods feverishly, his eyes grown wide as saucers. If the situation weren't so dire, Eugene would be chuckling into his hand, but he decides to bite down on his tongue instead. Regardless of his close relationship with the king and queen, he's not out of the woods here – not by a _long_ shot.

"I said, are. We. _Clear?_ "

"Yes, sir. I apologize, sir, I —"

"Come on, Eugene."

Frederic leads Eugene into the nearby throne room, where Rapunzel and Arianna are waiting, shutting the door behind the four of them. Eugene lingers back, leaning against the door, trying to grasp his bearings while dabbing at his still-bleeding, split lip.

"Sweetheart, what is going on? The _truth_."

Arianna stares at the daughter whom she loves so much – the daughter she had once lost – the daughter who had been brought back to her. It feels like she's losing Rapunzel for a second time, and this feeling terrifies the queen more than anything else ever could. Because now, Rapunzel's arms are crossed, and her eyes are glued to the floor, and she's more closed off than she's ever been, her parents standing before her with concerned looks.

"I… I can't tell you. It's between Eugene and me."

"Clearly, it's not. Clearly, Charles is involved, which means _we_ are involved."

"I can't… I can't tell you."

The queen pulls back, trying her very best to remain patient with her daughter, who has clearly had a traumatic morning.

"Rapunzel, this… this isn't like you. It isn't like you to keep secrets from us!"

Rapunzel finally lifts her eyes from the ground, away from her bare feet, and to the faces of her anxious parents.

"This isn't _like_ me? I haven't been myself for _months_ , and no one has so much as bothered to notice! Not even you!"

The king steps forward, his own worry etched deep into his brow, jaw clenched – though his voice remains soft, in hopes of not upsetting his distraught daughter any further.

"Of _course_ we've noticed, Rapunzel. You have changed, that is not hard to see! These last few months have been a big adjustment for you, we understand that. And we will love you, no matter what. But you need to tell us what's really going on. We cannot help you if you won't do that."

The young princess crosses her arms over her ribcage, looking away with a trembling bottom lip, tears pricking at her eyes, unable to meet the pleading looks on the king and queen's faces.

"If you know the truth… I don't know if you'll love me anymore."

Is there any sense in lying anymore, really? It's such a heavy weight upon her shoulders, to keep secrets like this – especially from her adoring parents, who have done nothing but love her – despite her traumas, quirks, and overly-curious tendencies. The final bone in Rapunzel's body which had once cared so desperately to keep her secrets hidden, has been broken – right along with her heart. Last night, with Eugene, Rapunzel had found herself actually _wishing_ that someone would catch them together, so that she wouldn't have to carry this agonizing weight any longer. She knows that this train of thought is messed up. But she's tired, of all of it.

She wants off this train, even if that means _jumping off_ before it can come to a stop.

"Rapunzel, that's simply not true! There is _nothing_ that could make us love you any less. Nothing! But you _have_ to tell us what's going on, sweetheart. Please."

"I did something wrong. I did something that I _knew_ was wrong, because my heart couldn't…" Rapunzel sighs, wringing her hands together, her nervous energy palpable. " _I_ couldn't handle… _not_ doing it."

The princess looks to her parents with apprehension, convinced that they will disown her right here and now, when they become aware of the truth of her situation.

"Sweetheart…" Queen Arianna continues slowly, cautiously. "Are you and Eugene having an affair?"

"Yes." Rapunzel breathes the singular, liberating word.

She's finally free. Free from the lies, from the secrets, from the guilt. Though, she is not free from the paralyzing silence, which her mother does not break for a very long moment.

"Rapunzel, you cannot do that! If word of this gets out, your reputation, it will be —"

"What? It'll be ruined?" Rapunzel interjects, four months of guilt and shame replaced with a newfound rage of her own. "It'll look bad for our family?"

Her parents have no immediate response to give, and this only angers Rapunzel more, a deep pang of hurt running through her veins – a hurt so deep, that it surpasses even the pain that she'd felt when they'd first told her there was nothing they could do to stop her marriage to Charles.

"And what about me? Does anyone care about _me?_ I have been _dying_ inside without Eugene! He's the only thing that I know from before I came here!"

Rapunzel can feel her hands beginning to shake, the movement a token of her four-month torment. She can't stand the brokenhearted expressions in the eyes of her parents, but she can't stop. The floodgates have opened, and there is no stopping the raging waves now.

"Let's recount my history with Eugene, shall we? First, he was ripped away from me by the woman that I _thought_ was my mother for eighteen years. Oh yeah, it was great. I got a _grand_ show of watching him get _STABBED_ , then _die in my arms._ But wait, it gets better! Because _then_ , when I actually thought that I had him back for good this time, he was ripped away from me, _AGAIN_ , without so much as a warning. All because of your _stupid_ , royal rules!"

"Sweetheart –"

"I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for any of this! I didn't sign up for this life! I didn't ask to be rescued from my tower by a man that I would _die_ to spend the rest of my life with, only to be married away to _someone else!_ Someone who I'm _not in love with._ And you know what?" Rapunzel laughs, because it's actually a little funny. All of it. "I didn't even ask to be a _princess!_ "

"Dear, we understand your pain. We do! And of _course_ we care about you, more than anything in this entire world! But we did all that we could at the time. We did what we thought was right —"

Rapunzel whirs on her father, her face a picture of pure anger, which so infrequently rests upon her pretty, petite features. It almost scares Frederic, the rage in his daughter's eyes that's directed right at him – and he doesn't find himself feeling fearful very often. Typically, Frederic only feels that deep-set fear when it relates to his daughter – to the thought of losing her all over again.

And it looks like he's losing her. Not literally – but losing her spirit, losing her joy, losing the very sunlight which she was once made of. And what has he done to fix that for her?

"No, you didn't! You didn't do anything to fight for him, to fight for _us!_ Sure, you gave him a job and you let him stay in the palace, even after the wedding. But letting him stay was practicing _begging_ me to have an affair with him! You _knew_ how much I love him! You're the king and queen! There's more you could have done, but you didn't!"

Arianna interjects once more, wanting so desperately to diffuse the building tension of the situation – to piece together the brokenness that their once so joyful, tightly knit family unit has fallen into.

"Rapunzel, we understand that you are heartbroken, and we feel horrible! It breaks _our_ hearts to see you like this, and to know that we are partly to blame! But you cannot continue this incredibly inappropriate behavior! We are already on _very_ thin ice with the council. They have made their decision. And whether we like it or not, their decision was for you to marry Charles. Your father and I simply do not have the leverage that we once did. There will be consequences, _major_ consequences for _everyone_ involved, if that decision is not properly fulfilled."

If her _duty_ is not properly fulfilled. If Rapunzel does not commit to her husband – if she does not give the kingdom a successor.

Rapunzel's voice leaves her lips bitterly, daring the king or queen to judge her behavior any further – when she feels as though her _parents_ are partially to blame for her acting so inappropriately, so… _whorishly_ , outside of the restraints of her marriage.

"Do you think I care what the _council_ thinks, when _they're_ the ones who took Eugene from me in the first place? Or what _you_ think, for that matter, after the role that you played in ripping him away? You've all already tried to take Eugene from me in every way that you could. So there aren't any _consequences_ that can scare me into letting go."

"I'm sorry that you feel that way. Regardless, this affair of yours... we're sorry, sweetheart, but you _have_ to end it. We cannot risk this getting out to the public, or to anyone else in the palace, for that matter. I don't think you understand what it will do to you!" Arianna's face falls, the concern for her daughter's circumstance clear and unignorable. "We just want to protect you."

"I don't care what it does to me. Don't you get that? Being without him is torture enough. You could've protected me before things got this far! You could've done more to protect me from the marriage, but you didn't!"

"Sweetheart —"

"I won't stop seeing him. I won't end my affair, my _relationship_ , with Eugene. I can't pretend to love someone else for the rest of my life. I _won't_."

King Frederic has had just about enough – enough of watching his daughter drag herself into a deeper hole – a hole so deep, that she will never be able to dig herself out. A hole that will only result in her being buried alive.

"Rapunzel, I demand that you put an end to this affair."

"No."

"Rapunzel —"

" _No!_ I _hate_ Charles. Can't you see that? I don't love him, I _can't_ love him. Not when I'm still in love with Eugene. So yes, I started an affair. And I _know_ that it's wrong, but I don't care. I'm not sorry for lying, and I'm not sorry for letting him make love to me when I'm a married woman. I will not apologize for that."

" _Rapunzel_ —"

The princess interjects her mother's plea, looking to her with desperate eyes.

"Charles doesn't make _love_ to me, Mom! He treats me like, like... a _prize_ on his arm! He doesn't care about me. He only cares about getting what he wants, about what he can get _from_ me! But Eugene loves me, for who I am. How can you possibly ask me to give that up?!"

The king and queen finally look to Eugene, who's been standing against the closed doorway all the while. His fingers are pinched to the bridge of his nose, as Eugene contemplates his every life decision, and wonders how they have managed to get themselves into such deep shit. He'd really been convinced that things couldn't have gotten any worse than the whole, _'Gothel, kidnapping, magic hair, almost-dying-by-stab-wound-in-a-tower'_ thing.

But boy, was he _wrong_.

"I'm sorry, but you… you have to let go of one another." King Frederic responds simply, calmly, his eyes darting between the two young lovers before resting upon his daughter once more. "This can't go on any longer. You're going to get hurt –"

"I already _am_ hurt, Dad." Rapunzel answers with an equal calmness, hands on her hips. "And I refuse to do that."

She feels like an over-dramatic teenager, and Rapunzel supposes, that's what she is – with good reason.

"Fine. Then, although I do not _want_ to… I will sadly have to ask Eugene to leave the palace if you cannot end this affair on your own terms."

Rapunzel takes a staggered step back – unsure if she's insulted, surprised, or perhaps a strange mixture of both.

"You wouldn't do that."

"I don't want to, Rapunzel, but I will." King Frederic responds, standing his ground. "I will. You are my daughter, and I will do what I need to do to protect this family from the council. To protect _you_."

The princess stares at her father for a long moment, willing herself to find the bravery to say the angry words which are screaming in her subconscious, a haunting hush fallen upon the room.

"You know, Dad… I once had someone tell me that everything they did was to protect me. And that person ended up not really loving me at all."

When he realizes whom she speaks of, Frederic takes a surprised step toward Rapunzel, before shaking his head, furrowing his brow in clear offense, stepping away. Arianna, placing a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder, presses forward, pleading with her daughter.

"Rapunzel, sweetheart, this is different –"

"Not to me, it isn't. If you send Eugene away, I… I'm going with him."

"Blondie, its okay —"

Eugene speaks for the first time since the showdown had begun, and Arianna can't help but note how strained his voice is, how tired the young man seems.

And he is. He's tired. Tired of what he cannot have, tired of feeling as though his insides are rotting without her, tired of this metaphorical tower in which she has found herself trapped in once more – tired, because there is nothing he can do to save her this time. Now, Eugene cannot give up his life for hers. He cannot fix this.

"No, it's not, Eugene. It's not okay." Rapunzel stalks toward him, leaving her mother speechless, and her father all the more frustrated. "I'm done pretending, too."

Rapunzel stands before Eugene as though she were a wall, blocking him from harm – in the same way that _he_ had protected her from Charles only mere minutes ago – glowering at her parents.

"If he goes, I go."

Because _he_ is her dream. He was her dream, before she ever stepped foot into this castle – not the crown, not the fancy ball gowns, not the adoring subjects. _Him_.

"Rapunzel, don't be ridiculous –"

"If he goes, _I go_."

Her fingers are on the doorknob, numb and threatening, begging for an escape.

"This conversation isn't over, young lady."

Rapunzel and Frederic stare at one another from across the room – their once-strong trust, ultimately broken – the tapestry of their relationship shredded, the shelter which is their love for one another, blown into a million pieces.

"Yes, it is."

With that, Rapunzel yanks at Eugene's arm, hard, pulling him from the throne room, slamming the door behind them.

"Come on, Eugene."

"Where are we going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere, anywhere. I just need you. Now."

_Is she serious?_

"Rapunzel, you heard your parents. We can't keep doing this to ourselves!"

The princess stops in her tracks, squinting her eyes in a furious, green glare in order to keep the heavy tears from streaming down her cheeks.

"What are you saying, Eugene? That you want to end this?"

"No! Of course I don't _want_ to, Rapunzel. I love you! But what choice do we have? Your parents are right. If this got out to the people, to the _council_ —"

She pushes him into a small, nearby sitting room, locking the door behind them before pushing him against it, pressing her body to his.

"I don't care. What if this was the last time you could ever make love to me? My parents _know_ now, and it's only a matter of time before the rest of Corona does, too. What if this was the last time we could touch each other, or even _look_ at each other like this?"

The desperation of her tone is unlike any urgency Eugene has heard from her before. The sound sends both a pang through his heart and a lust through his body – one that he tries damn hard to ignore.

"Rapunzel, we have to live with this —"

"I _CAN'T_."

"You're going to have to find a way!"

"My _only_ way of coping has been doing this with you! Without the sneaking around, without the lying… I can't handle a marriage to someone else!" Rapunzel places both hands on Eugene's chest, pushing him slightly, though he knows that it's not him who she's truly angry with. " _I can't love someone else!_ "

"I know, Blondie, I… God, I can't love anyone else either. I can't even _imagine_ it. But _this_ is the reality of our situation! You have to _try_. You haven't even tried! Your parents are right, I can't be here anymore! I'm holding you back from the chance of a happy marriage."

Eugene places a hand on either side of Rapunzel's face, running his fingers through her hair on instinct, pulling their faces so close that it _kills_ him not to kiss her.

"I've been selfish with you, Blondie, _so_ selfish by staying here. It's not fair to you, and I'm so sorry for that. You haven't even had a chance to find out if Charles could make you happy, and I'm the one to blame –"

"I already know that he couldn't." She insists, fumbling to unbuckle his vest.

_God, this girl is going to be the death of me._

"Rapunzel, stop. We have to stop."

But she's too far gone now, not listening at all, focused only on getting his clothes off. Eugene takes her tiny wrists into his hands, as gently as he possibly can, pushing her away without letting go of her arms.

He's pleading with her now, and Rapunzel swears she can see tears welling up in Eugene's eyes.

"Rapunzel, _stop_. We can't keep going on like this!"

The princess looks up at him, stares at Eugene for a painstakingly long moment. She suddenly reaches up, pressing a thumb gently to his lip, where its split. She makes a face, as if she hadn't realized that his mouth was bleeding until now.

"You're hurt." Rapunzel looks down at her thumb when she pulls it away, inspecting the suddenly blood-stained skin there.

_She's in shock. She's in shock – she doesn't know how to process all of this._

"We're both hurt, Blondie." Eugene whispers, digging a hand into her hair, desperate to hold onto something – to hold onto _her_ – begging her to understand the gravity of their situation.

Rapunzel just looks at him, studying Eugene's face as though she may never see it again after today (and maybe, if the king meant what he said, she wouldn't), before a long heave in her chest ensues. In no more than a moment, she's falling against his chest, sobbing into his shirt. She's been trying so hard to hold it all together for these past few months, but she can't do it anymore.

There is nothing left to hold together.

Eugene cradles his princess to him, stroking her hair, looking up at the chandeliered ceiling with tears pricking at the corners of his own eyes – knowing full well that he should be gone by morning.

But how can he possibly find the strength within himself to leave her? He'd _promised_ that he wouldn't. How can he walk away from his dream – the _only_ thing that's ever been worth living for?

Leaving would be the right thing to do. It would be the responsible thing to do. As Charles had warned at the party: _not_ leaving will only make things harder for _her_. It would be stupid of Eugene to stay. He knows that.

But standing here, back pressed against the door, the love of his life sobbing in his arms as their world finally falls apart around them once and for all, Eugene wants to be stupid as hell. He wants to be so incredibly stupid, and he wants to stay, forever. He wants to be with her until the sun explodes, or until his lonely ghost stops haunting the halls of this castle – whichever comes first. He wants to make her his wife, and he wants to bury his face in her hair – so he does – and cry with her.

So he does.

**AN: Well,** _**that** _ **hurt.**

**What do you think, guys? Charles finally, definitively knows about the affair (** _**round of applause for Stalyan** _ **). Arianna and Frederic know about the affair. So, what will Rapunzel and Eugene do now? What will** _**Charles** _ **do, in retaliation to the secret finally being out? I'd love to hear your theories.**

**I wanted to end this chapter by saying thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you to all of you who have been reading this little story of mine. This story and these characters mean so much to me. I'm not writing this story, not putting in the hours upon hours of writing and editing, for any praise. I'm writing this story because these characters have gotten me through so much since first meeting them in a theatre ten years ago, and because writing is genuinely my passion. But when someone takes the time to leave a thoughtful review, it only makes writing this story that much more worthwhile. I know that these characters mean a lot to many others out there, so I hope that I'm doing them justice with this story.**

**I hope to see you all again for Chapter 19. The scales are about to tip rapidly, and I hope you're ready for what's to come!**


	20. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hey, guys. I'm not going to lie: although I truly enjoyed writing this chapter, it was a hard one. And, with what I have planned for this story, the next chapter is going to be even more difficult – only because I love these characters so much, and I honestly feel a little guilty for putting them through such pain. But please, do not fret. Things may look bleak right now, but New Dream will get their happily ever after. I'm excited about where I'm taking this story, and I hope that you will trust me throughout the journey of getting them there.
> 
> Again, I can't keep saying thank you enough, for the sweet reviews that you guys leave for me. They are just beyond encouraging and so appreciated. This story would be nothing without you here to read it. All I'm going to say about this chapter is that you should probably start buckling up now, if you did not heed my warning to do so a few chapters ago. Shit is about to go down – and I mean, go down. But, like I've said before, I'm playing the long game with this story, and I hope you are, too.
> 
> Today's featured song is Monsters by All Time Low (feat. blackbear and Demi Lovato). I really enjoy this song, and it feels very appropriate for this point in the story, applicable to the headspace of any of our four main characters, whose lives have become so painfully intertwined. Give it a listen, and perhaps you'll agree.
> 
> Oh, and don't forget to enjoy the chapter. Well – as much as you can, given the circumstance. *Evil grin*

**Chapter 19: I Won't Say 'I Told You So'**

Rapunzel throws up late in the evening on the day following the inevitable explosion of her and Eugene's affair.

He'd warned her that this would happen. He'd warned her, that what they'd been doing was wrong, and she hadn't listened. She hadn't listened, because she was young, and naïve, and she'd taken his wisdom – wisdom brought about by years of making mistakes – for granted. She hadn't listened, because the feeling of his hands upon her skin, the luxury of being able to moan into his mouth, and the way that he made her _come_ , _every single time_ , whether it be by mouth, or hand, or other highly adept body part – it was all too much! It was addictive, _he_ was addictive, their pure love and unmatched intimacy far too valuable to her to ever let go of it completely.

She could stand secrets, she could stand sneaking around, if that's what it meant to be with him forever. She would give up his future children, she would give up the ability to love him to the public – to become his _wife_ – if only it meant not _losing_ him. This is not a sacrifice which the princess can take with her typically jovial attitude. This sacrifice goes down like thick molasses, only because she still _wants_ his children, still wants him down on one knee. These are things which she simply cannot help but desire.

This is not a sacrifice which she enjoys, but she would make it. She would make it, for his sake – but mostly for hers, because she is selfish with him, and because losing him is number one on her mental list of _'Things I Cannot Bear.'_

What she could _not_ stand, is being away from him, not even for one night – not after recent, traumatic events. She cannot stand going without that precious release which only he can provide – release which she shamefully has found herself craving on so many cold nights with her husband right there in bed with her. She can't help it – she needs it, and often, after the high stress of these last several months. She _needs_ to forget the anxiety of their situation, if only for a little while, and Eugene is so very _good_ at making her forget.

Because if he's making her thighs shake and her voice pant his name mindlessly, completely breathless, her brain can finally go blank from the pleasure, can finally experience a much-needed _break_ , if only for a lust-driven moment. And she could _forget_ , and it would almost feel as though they were their old selves again – ridiculously in love and blissfully ignorant of the raging storm to come – the storm which would pull them under, and pull them apart, holding their heads down until they cannot breathe any longer. But when he is buried inside of her, _oh_ , there is some kind of _magic_ which occurs: he rips her soul right out of her. And if only for a moment, she feels _nothing_ but him. There is no agony, no stress, no unbearable heartbreak. This is a feeling – or more so, a _lack_ of feeling – which she would kill for today.

The prince had once been blissfully ignorant, as well – ignorant to her dark thoughts about another man. But, in a stomach-churning twist of recent events, which she would all but _beg_ Eugene to make her forget right now, her husband is now _adeptly_ aware of the princess's romantic-turned-dangerous inability to stay away from the former thief – _just_ as Eugene had feared would happen from the beginning. But Rapunzel had not listened to his warranted concerns, that pesky desire of hers making it impossible to keep herself from him. But really, she never could. Not before the marriage to Charles, and certainly not after – regardless of the bounty of consequences on her head for this nuclear inability to _just stay away._

So, she'd poked and she'd prodded, dragging Eugene right down into that lustful hell with her – when he would've been far better off simply walking away once she was shoved into that white deathtrap of a wedding dress. Eugene had warned Rapunzel that their inability to stay away from one another, despite how much her arranged commitment to Charles _killed_ them, was not wise to indulge. He'd warned her that their incapacity to keep their hands off of one another, while an alluring thing under normal circumstances, would result in them both getting very hurt in this unprecedented one, ripping them up –even more so than the news of the marriage initially had.

And, as usual, Eugene had been completely right: the ultimate liberation of their dirty little secret has not only ripped them apart once more, but has ripped them up in heart – this brutal hurt has taken them between its teeth, chewed them thoroughly, and spit them out.

In the same way that Rapunzel is now spitting out regurgitated lamb stew and rice. Either the trauma of her situation is making her physically ill, or the palace chef has offered her poisoned food. Honestly, either possibility is a better alternative to the lovesickness which has now overrun the princess – perhaps, her puking will actually be able to _distract_ her from it. It feels as though her body is actually _rotting_ from the inside out, dragging her through an unforgiving withdrawal, seemingly warning her of this lack of _Eugene-ness_. The only thing capable of reviving her dampened spirit is this one, addictive man – a man who, now, she can never truly have. All she can internally scream to her body is, _'I know, I know! I want him, too!'_ But this is not enough to console her – only he can do that.

The miserable princess had opted to have each of her meals that day brought to her old bedroom, which she's holed herself up in. She is completely determined not to catch so much as a half-hearted _glimpse_ of Charles, nor of her parents.

Frankly, Rapunzel is tired of being angry with the king and queen. She has felt this secret, bottled-up rage toward them for so long now, since the day she'd learned that she would be married, and that they had been the ones to sign the marriage agreement with Maddoline nearly two decades ago. Though her anger is warranted, it is _exhausting._ It's exhausting not to run into the arms of her parents, and plead with them to help her through this – but the princess's stubbornness has taken her by the reigns, keeping her from seeking them out after yesterday's explosive conversation. Rapunzel understands her parent's desire to protect her – their desire to keep her from the line of fire, which Charles so plainly has directed at her and Eugene. Rapunzel understands their concern – their natural, parental worry – she is _grateful_ for it even, that she now has parents who genuinely love her _so much_.

But what she does _not_ understand, is how her father could be so irrational as to threaten Eugene's absence. Where would he go? What would he do? He belongs with _her_ – everyone knows that. Everyone has _always_ known that, even her parents. Despite Eugene's troubling past, Frederic and Arianna had taken the former thief into their home, treating him as their own son in that first year together. From day one, there was an ever-present, mutual understanding between the king and queen: Flynn Rider, soon to be known as Eugene Fitzherbert, and the lost princess were a package deal. They knew this when they met the young, wanted man on that balcony for the first time, knowing full well the act of treason which had plagued his name only _two days_ prior, and the heroism which he now bestowed for bringing their precious daughter home.

Frederic has always been what one might politely call an _'overprotective parent,'_ and this was not the first time that he and Rapunzel had butt heads to attest to this. But the king's threat to remove Eugene from the castle, though understandable from the perspective of a concerned parent, feels like the greatest betrayal of Rapunzel's young life – and she'd only recently learned that her entire life had been a lie, so that's saying a lot. She _wants_ to understand her father, wants to understand his fierce desire to protect her – sometimes, using methods that go beyond what appears completely necessary to do so. The princess understands her father's deeply rooted trauma from losing her as a baby, which still lingers in his heart like an uncured disease. Rapunzel _wants_ to see things from her father's perspective: she wants to understand why he believes so strongly that Eugene being here, will hurt her worse than Eugene _not_ being here, because she knows in her heart which will hurt much worse.

The stress-plagued princess wants to see things from her father's perspective, but she can't. She can't, because she knows that life without Eugene, is infinitely more miserable than life with Eugene, even with Charles making things infinitely more difficult for them. Rapunzel would rather walk around with a Charles-attracting target on her back for the rest of her life, than ever be away from Eugene again. _Any_ woman would take such a risk, if _they'd_ experienced Eugene Fitzherbert – if they knew what it was like to be loved by him.

Speaking of other Eugene-obsessed women, _Stalyan_ , in a sheer coincidence of pathetically bad luck (or, knowing Stalyan, it was the _furthest_ thing from a coincidence), had been the maid to bring Rapunzel's evening meal to the door – the lamb and rice staring back at her now, as the princess kneels on the cold bathroom floor, her stomach churning relentlessly.

Rapunzel, dragged down by the gripping current of her anger and resulting self-isolation, had considered throwing the steaming plate of food back at the Baron's daughter, but decided against doing so – if only for moral reasons. The princess had settled for a furious glare instead, hastily taking the plate and slamming the door behind her. Stalyan had left with a click of her tongue, followed by a snarky comment about Rapunzel _'Getting what was coming to her.'_

It was not hard to determine that Stalyan had been the one to tell Charles about the affair – the one to spill Rapunzel's delusional fairytale right into the awaiting mouth of the already-suspicious, jealous prince, who had only needed a subtle push in the right direction to finally explode once and for all. Stalyan was the only person who _knew_ – aside from Cassandra and Lance, and they wouldn't dare breathe a word. No, this was an episode of _The_ _Evil_ _Workings of Stalyan: Revenge Edition_. If the Baron's daughter couldn't have Eugene, _no one_ could, and this was her special way of very clearly marking her territory.

Thankfully, Rapunzel knows the truth – enough to be utterly furious with Stalyan for this petty act of vengeance, but no longer feel threatened by her – because Rapunzel knows where Eugene's heart, loyalty, and desire lie: they lie with her, and they always will. Stalyan may have won the battle, but she has not won the war, and the princess is prepared to go down with a sword in her hand if she must. She has defeated far worse women than Stalyan, after all.

Rapunzel tries her best to disregard Stalyan's parting comment, tries to ignore the rage seething just beneath her skin, filtering into her bones – her rage towards Stalyan for spilling her precious secret to Charles, her rage towards Charles for his unpredictable, _childlike_ behavior, her rage towards her parents for threatening Eugene's departure, and for the role which they'd played in her marriage – and most of all, her rage towards herself, for allowing herself to be pulled so deep into such a disastrous situation as this, and for pulling Eugene right down with her.

Eugene deserves better, Rapunzel has definitively concluded as she wallows pathetically in her old bedroom, drowning in an unwavering pool of guilt. He deserves far better than this fucked up situation which she had all but _begged_ him into, and she hadn't been able to give it to him. He'd had dreams: dreams of marriage and children, dreams of growing old together. His dreams had shifted from acquiring an island to enjoy alone, surrounded by enormous piles of money, to a life with _her_. _She_ was his dream, and she'd taken it for granted – she'd thrown it all away! And now, none of those dreams would ever come true for him; at least, not with her. And the thought of him making them come true with _someone else_ , is enough to make the princess want to throw up her dinner all over again.

' _I've failed him,'_ Rapunzel convinces herself now, _'In the worst way that I possibly could have.'_

She should have refused to marry Charles – she should have screamed louder, and kicked harder. She should have run away with Eugene when he'd asked her to only two nights ago, or even before then. Was that really only _two_ nights ago, when he'd asked her to run away? It feels as though two _lifetimes_ have passed since that night in the garden. So much has happened since then, so much has gone utterly _wrong_.

Silently, Rapunzel curses her love for her kingdom, her strong sense of duty to her people. She curses herself for her _nerve_ to put them before Eugene – who, without, she would not be the princess of said kingdom in the first place. If he had never found her, if he had never stolen her crown, that crown would never have rested upon her head, with its burden of responsibility and lifelong commitment to her people. If it weren't for Eugene, Rapunzel would probably still be in her tower, riding out that blissful ignorance.

Eugene would quite literally _die_ for her, and what has she done for him? She has shattered him – shattered _herself_ – she has promised a dream life to him which she can no longer give, not if she stays here in Corona. She has put the needs of her people before him, again and again. And she _hates_ herself for it, yet she does it anyway.

Because _that's_ what a future queen would do. Not because she wants to, but because she must.

Rapunzel's mother, the _current_ queen, has been at the door several times since yesterday, after she and Eugene's dirty laundry had finally been hung to dry, their secrets blowing in the wind, unprotected and liberated. Arianna has begged and pleaded with Rapunzel, in hopes of coaxing her daughter from the bedroom, repeating soft affirmations of _'we love you'_ and _'please talk to us.'_ But to no avail – the queen's pleas have fallen upon deaf ears – ears which desire one voice, and one voice only.

The princess feels a cold guilt running over her body each time she hears her mother's gentle, comforting voice on the other side of the door – mostly because she still _loves_ her parents, and loving them is something that she will never _not_ do, regardless of her anger. But, in Rapunzel's mind, they are the ultimate reason as to why she has let Eugene down so badly. If it were not for her parent's agreement to sign the marriage agreement with Maddoline when she was only a baby, none of them would be so desperately in over their heads right now, struggling to tread in the murky waters of jealousy, and rage, and the fear of losing each other once more.

Regardless of the unconditional love which she has for her parents, this does not mean that Rapunzel is not undeniably angry with them, because she is. Right now, Rapunzel does not want to see anyone, does not want to defend her inability to stay away from Eugene – mostly because her defense would be utterly weak and completely pitiful. _She_ is weak, and _he_ makes her that way. He makes her weak in the knees, melancholic for a sense of _completeness_ , for that feeling of being filled up and intertwined with the other half of your soul. And right now, Rapunzel does not want to hear anyone's voice singing its song of judgement and betrayal – except for maybe Eugene's, who would never even _think_ to betray or judge her.

And what has she done to repay him for his unwavering devotion? Absolutely nothing.

Actually, Rapunzel is dying to see _him_. She would give anything right now, after the nerve-wracking events of the last several days, to feel Eugene's arms wrapped protectively around her, to sneak to his bedroom, to feel him inside, his low voice begging her to come for him – _no_. They'd reluctantly agreed to stay away from one another, at least for a few days, until the dust settles – _if_ the dust ever settles.

Rapunzel isn't sure that it will.

So instead, she has made her former bedroom a new-and-improved tower of sorts, entrapping herself there and refusing to proceed beyond its door, terrified of what – or _who_ – will be there if she ever finds the courage to open it. Rapunzel has holed herself up in this cheery, yellow-walled prison, the nostalgic memories of that first year with Eugene here in the castle staring back at her – _making fun of her_. These memories are splattered across the walls in intricate, little paintings: paintings in which they look _so happy_ together, that Rapunzel actually feels _stupid_ for ever being that content.

It is almost _painful_ to be in this room again, to reflect upon the beautiful time that she'd had before the marriage to Charles, showcased by paintings which emulate the peace that her relationship with Eugene had brought her, and the joy of her newfound relationship with her parents. If she could, Rapunzel would somehow transport herself into these paintings, living safely with Eugene there forever, in a blissful place where her husband could not dream of touching her – in a place where he would simply cease to exist. Realistically, Rapunzel cannot hide from Charles for the rest of her life – she knows that.

But it doesn't hurt to try.

There has already been a whirlwind of whispers circling the castle, procured by gossip-obsessed maids, whose always-perked ears had heard Charles's furious screams from far down the hallway. The maids had seen the vase shattered on the floor of the small sitting room where the Maddolineon prince and Eugene Fitzherbert had angrily sparred over the princess, and had noticed the little dots of blood from Eugene's mouth stained there on the marble. There was someone who had to clean up their mess, and someone who had to _tell_ of their mess, and someone who had to start the toxic vortex of gossip which so eloquently travels around the castle. And in time, the kingdom would be sucked into the vortex, too.

Rapunzel can hear the harsh truth of the gossip now: _'The princess has not been faithful to her husband.'_ _'Eugene was there. He and Prince Charles got into a fight again. It was all_ _ **her**_ _fault.' 'The princess is having an affair.'_

She will no longer go down in history as the lost princess – no, she will be known as the princess who could've had a prince, but couldn't leave well enough alone. It's only a matter of time before the entire kingdom knows about Rapunzel's indiscretion – her inability, as the maids would so bluntly say, to _'keep her legs closed.'_

But, with a man like Eugene to love you, who _would_ be faithful? Who would keep their legs closed? The gossiping maids understood. They were _envious_ , even, of Princess Rapunzel's opportunity to choose between a _prince_ – a foreign man with regal status and more money than what could be spent in a single lifetime – and _Eugene Fitzherbert_ , who is ever-presently witty, charming, sexy in that _'I was a bad boy, but I'll change for you'_ kind of way, and hands down the most gorgeous man that has ever stepped foot into this castle. The maids, they understood Rapunzel's predicament, in the way that only a fellow, jealous young woman could. They understood her inability to stay away from Eugene – because if he belonged to one of _them_ , they wouldn't be able to stay away from him, either – not even with a wealthy prince on the line.

From the very moment of Rapunzel and Eugene's unexpected but joyful arrival over a year ago, plenty of the castle staff had placed their longing stares upon Eugene, watching him closely, their lustful looks wordlessly _begging_ him to trip up – begging him to step away from the princess for _just_ long enough for one of them to grasp his attention. They were never able to, obviously, as everyone quickly learned that Eugene Fitzherbert's attention had one beholder, and one beholder only. This, of course, does not stop the scandal-loving maids from shouting Princess Rapunzel's current, _unfortunately adulterous_ predicament around the castle grounds in the form of whispers, giggles, and generally crude comments. If anything, jealousy only fuels a maid's incapacity to keep a secret.

And the maids were right. This _is_ her weakness, Rapunzel concludes: her inability to keep her legs closed, must be her weakness. _Eugene_ is her weakness. If she'd just been able to do that, if she'd been strong enough to stay away from Eugene, she would not have drug them both into such a situation as this – a situation which he does not deserve to be a part of. Staying away from him, in crestfallen hindsight, would have _protected_ him, and she'd let him down. All that he's ever done is protect her, and she couldn't even return the simple favor. Then again, things are even less simple than they were before.

What Charles had so bluntly stated, is true: Rapunzel _is_ a whore, and the worst kind, at that – because she pretends that she is not. What he'd said about her was true, what _Gothel_ had said about her was true: she is too naïve to be here, because she had thought that her dreams with Eugene would _actually_ come true. Gothel was wrong for accusing Rapunzel of being demented about Eugene liking her: _God_ , he liked her – no, he _loves_ her, in a way that she never could have predicted, in a way that she could never properly thank him for. He'd never left her in the snap of her fingers, had never lied to her so guiltlessly, as Gothel had predicted that he would. But if the manipulative woman had been right about _one_ thing, it was Rapunzel's naivety that her and Eugene would actually find their happily ever after.

And, Rapunzel decides, this makes her every kind of naïve that a person could possibly be.

Studying the many paintings on the walls of her former bedroom, Rapunzel wonders what her life would be like now if she hadn't lost her virginity to Eugene – if she'd walked away, if she'd given Charles a real chance, if she'd truly made an effort in her fledgling marriage. If she hadn't given all of herself to the man that she loves. Could she _really_ have saved Eugene from this hurt, if she would've done the right and noble thing? If she simply would have shut up, accepted her fate, and fulfilled her duty as a wife, as a future monarch of this kingdom? Could she have protected him?

She would've felt this raging guilt either way, no matter what she did – at least she'd been able to ride out that guilt _with_ Eugene, Rapunzel concludes. The princess knows that, even if Eugene had left the castle, even if they'd _tried_ to leave good enough alone, she would've found him again. She would've found him, and they would've done the same scandalous, deceitful thing which they'd done inside this castle. They would've snuck around, they would've made friends with the shadows, they would've risked themselves – all to catch a glimpse of one another, all for the brush of a hand, all for panted reassurances of _'I love you'_ in the dark. She would've snuck out, or he would've snuck in. Either way, they would've had one another, the love-laced intimacy helping them to forget the painful unfairness of their circumstance.

And yeah, Rapunzel would give just about _anything_ to have him helping her forget right now.

The princess is beginning to feel positively dizzy – dizzy at the thought of Eugene, and even dizzier at the thought of being away from him any more than she already has been. Perhaps her sickness has to do with her unsatisfactory dinner – or more accurately, the _loss_ of her dinner – or the inevitable, impending doom of facing her parents and her husband.

She would rather throw up her dinner a _thousand_ times than face her jealous, hysterical husband. Her parents, she could handle. Charles, she would give anything to never see again.

There is a sudden, pert knock on the door, dragging Rapunzel from her sullen train of thought, which has been leading her nowhere constructive all day, holed up in her old bedroom in this depressing isolation – an isolation so reminiscent of her first eighteen years of life. Her destination is somewhere between _Incurable_ _Self-Pity_ and _Feeling So Guilty For Letting Eugene Down That I Actually Feel Sick._

' _Probably just Mom again,'_ Rapunzel considers, that far-too-familiar guilt causing an ache to run through her bones. _'I really shouldn't remain angry with her, or even with Dad. They are my parents, after all, and they love me. They were simply doing what they thought they should to protect me. I should talk to her. I feel so alone right now, and… and Mom_ _ **always**_ _knows what to say to make me feel better, and her arms are always so warm. Yes. Just open the door, and everything will be okay, and –'_

And the queen is not standing there.

"C-Charles." Rapunzel stutters, surprised to see her husband, immediately regretting pulling the door open. Her fingers are instantly white-knuckled around the door handle at the sight of his unpleasant face.

He looks like an absolute trainwreck, similar to the one currently crash-and-burning in the princess's head: clothes rumpled, face unshaven and donning a five o'clock shadow – all of which are a completely unusual phenomenon for the perpetually put-together prince. Along his strong jaw is a nasty, purpling bruise: an imprint donning the unforgiving shape of Eugene's knuckles.

Rapunzel feels a swell of pride at that, even though she knows that it's wrong to indulge in another person being hurt. The rueful princess can't help but feel as though Charles thoroughly deserved that well-aimed punch – mostly for what he'd said to her the other night, even if the brutal slur that he'd shot at her _does_ hold some truth.

"What're you doing here?" Rapunzel tries to sound firm and uninviting, but her voice is released in a strangled twist of words instead – timid and weak, as though she were _afraid_ of his presence.

Charles smiles in a mystifying manner, feeling a little rueful himself, stepping past his stunned wife and strolling casually into the cheerfully painted bedroom.

"Oh, just paying a visit to my _lovely_ wife."

The unreadable prince clasps his hands behind his back in that always-regal way of his, a complete contrast to his brazen appearance, quietly studying the delicate paintings on the wall beside them. This wall in particular, showcases one of Rapunzel's favorite paintings, which Eugene had so graciously helped her with: an extensive mural of their very first, very _significant_ adventure together. The once utterly plain, once yellow wall, is now covered completely with images of the Snuggly Duckling, the bursting dam, and her personal favorite: the night on the boat beneath the lanterns.

She and Eugene, his lips mere inches from hers, drawing her in, pulling her close – the moment that he trapped her heart in the way that only Eugene could.

"Mmm." Charles taps a finger to the intricate lantern scene, pressing the digit lightly to the wall.

To have her husband touching such an intimate moment… it almost makes Rapunzel feel violated.

"Pretty. You're very good at that."

This is what Rapunzel _doesn't_ like most about Charles: he is unpredictable. He is pleasant one moment, and the next, completely hysterical. For this reason, the princess does not feel comfortable in her own husband's presence – for his reason, she cannot bring herself to trust him, despite his casual, light demeanor.

"Thank you." Rapunzel says simply, trying her best to keep a straight face, desperate not to give Charles the satisfaction of making her uncomfortable. "May I ask why you're here? Or are you really just here to compliment my paintings? Because there's plenty of others just like that one, if you'd like to see."

Charles chuckles, wagging a finger at her before glancing again at the intimate, painted moment of her and Eugene.

"Alright, you caught me, Princess. I'm not just here to pay you a little visit." The prince edges forward, slinking closer to a clearly on-guard Rapunzel. "You're quite smart, you know. Have I ever told you that?"

Rapunzel stays quiet, watching Charles closely as he circles around her, stopping just before his wife, again clasping his hands behind his back regally.

"I would like you to return to our bedroom with me, and sleep where you belong. _Now_."

She smiles. Rapunzel smiles, because his change of mood was, if anything, imminent and entirely predictable.

"No, thank you."

And with that, Rapunzel turns away from him, swiftly moving toward the balcony.

The princess hears his footsteps hastily following her as she throws open the French doors, stepping into the cool evening air. The sun won't be setting for a little while longer, though there is a brilliant, golden glow reflecting upon the harbor, making the water glitter in hues of marigold. If Eugene were here, Rapunzel would note aloud how beautiful the scene is, and he would note how beautiful she looks in comparison.

But he is not, so she says nothing.

"It wasn't a _question_ , Rapunzel." Charles huffs from behind her.

But she ignores him for a moment, making her way to the balcony's edge, studying the kingdom below as though it were the most fascinating thing, trying her best to appear nonchalant – trying her best not to think about everything that she has to lose, now that Eugene has crossed her mind again.

"Haven't we been over this before? Because I think you've forgotten the part where I don't take _orders_ from you."

Rapunzel turns back to her equally irate husband, looking to where Charles is now holding onto the railing with white knuckles and gritted teeth, clearly trying his very best to remain calm.

"You may be my husband, Charles. And you may think that should mean something to me, because it's the right thing to do. But the ring, the marriage, it doesn't mean _anything_ if I don't want it –"

"Oh, do you _hear_ yourself, Rapunzel?" Charles finally cries, having been bursting with the anxiety of wanting to confront his cheating wife all day, throwing his hands into the chilly evening air in a dramatic manner. "You sound just _like_ him! He has you completely distracted from your duty, completely _brainwashed!_ Don't you see? Don't you _see_ what he's done to you?!"

' _What he's done to me?'_ Rapunzel silently thinks to herself, completely enraged by the suggestion that Eugene has ruined her. _'Eugene has done a lot of things to me, and they all felt_ _ **really**_ _good.'_

That's what Rapunzel _wants_ to say. But she doesn't, for fear of sending her husband straight into the metaphorical deep end, and dragging her right down with him.

"I sound like him because it's the _truth_ , Charles. You don't _know_ me! The person that you think I am… this perfect princess, this dutiful wife… I can't _be_ her! Your basis for being so angry with me, for being so angry with _him_ , is placed upon completely _faulty_ ground! I have no obligation to you, and you do not have one to me! I _had_ an obligation to someone before I was promised to you without my consent! And I really don't understand why you're so –"

Charles rushes forward, suddenly taking Rapunzel's hands into his own white-knuckled ones, making her cringe, delusionally choosing to ignore her blunt confession.

"Because I love you, Rapunzel! I have told you this before. I care because I _love_ you, and I want you to _want_ to be with me! I've never felt this way about a woman before! I-I've never felt this longing for someone. I've never wanted someone who didn't fall at my feet, and it's driving me insane!"

The disheartened prince pulls away with a sudden jerk, quickly dropping her hands as though they've burned his palms, narrowing his piercing sapphire eyes with a freshly lit, fiery rage.

"But all you've done is reject me. Not only have you rejected me, but you disappear off to act like a little _harlot_ with that… that _thief_ of yours! You should be _ashamed_ –"

"He's not a –"

Charles presses on, desperate to voice his burning jealousy once more – a jealousy which lingers and prods at him, because dammit, his wife should belong to him, and to _him alone._ Not another man, and _surely_ not to a man like Eugene Fitzherbert, who is clearly capable of taking whatever he wants from the most unsuspecting person!

"He _is_ a _thief,_ Rapunzel _._ He is a lowlife thief, who _pretended_ to change for you, so that he could get into this castle and _steal_. Steal your virtue, steal your innocence, steal your _value_ from your future husband. How can't you _see_ that? How can't you see that he's doing what he does best?" The emotional prince shakes his head, blowing hot air from his nose. "Do you think that I don't know what led him to you in the first place? Do you think that I don't know about the crown? I know who he is and I know what he wants from you. It's the same thing that _every_ man wants from a woman!"

Rapunzel takes an offended step back, bumping against the railing, knowing exactly what Charles is implying: he's implying that Eugene only wants her for sex, which Rapunzel knows is _completely_ untrue. Eugene would love her, Eugene would _stay_ , even if he'd never get to touch her again.

Regardless of what she knows, the princess is entirely baffled by her husband's unique ability to replicate feelings which _Gothel_ had once instilled in her: feelings of insecurity and lack of personal value – feelings which she has fought like _hell_ to escape since leaving her tower.

"He didn't steal those things from me, Charles. I _gave_ them to him. I gave them to him, because _he_ was going to be my husband. Not _you_."

Charles sniffs loudly, turning away for a moment, studying the kingdom below before turning back to her sharply.

"Well, then… you are not as smart as I thought you to be, Rapunzel, if you truly thought that someone like you would be allowed to marry someone like _him_." The prince points a finger to his own chest, his eyes glinting darkly with possessiveness. " _I_ was always intended to be your husband. You understand that, don't you? I have spent my entire _life_ wondering if I would ever meet you, knowing about the arrangement. Knowing that someday, if you were ever found, I would marry you. And I came here, I left my life in my own country, for you! Only to find you with… with _him_."

Crossing her arms defiantly over her chest, Rapunzel wonders how someone like Charles has the nerve to question the morality of someone like Eugene: a perfect man who is sweet, caring, and has done _nothing_ but love her unconditionally and change for her – despite the pain which he's endured by staying. Eugene had completely abandoned the only life _he'd_ ever known, the identity he'd used to mask a lonely childhood, for her. He didn't have to do that, didn't have to revert back to Eugene Fitzherbert. But he had, for her, even though it had only led him on a path of even deeper heartbreak than he'd started with. And this fact, this genuine sacrifice, causes the 'sacrifice' which Charles is trying to defend now, to fall apart.

"You're just jealous of him. That's why you feel the need to insult him, to provoke him." Rapunzel shakes her head, recalling her husband's words from the other night. ' _You're a whore, you're a whore, you're a whore._ ' Why you feel the need to insult me."

"Why on _earth_ would _I_ be jealous of someone like – "

"Because you will never be _half_ the man Eugene is." Rapunzel musters all of the courage that she can, knowing full well that she's about to open a very ugly can of worms which she will never be able to close again. "Because I lost my virginity to him, and I'm glad that I did. Because I let him take my _'value'_ from you. And I will _never_ let you so much as _touch_ me."

The slap is sudden, unexpected, and leaves an immediate red welt on her soft, unknowing cheek. Rapunzel instinctually reaches up to hold her stinging face. She feels rather dizzy all of a sudden, _far_ dizzier than before, swaying there in the night air with her husband looking over her, raging distain in his eyes. The stunned princess cradles her wounded cheek for only a moment before her eyes roll back, and she collapses to the balcony floor.

* * *

Eugene is sitting on the ledge of an exterior, stone hallway, which connects two obscure wings of the castle, receiving little to no activity. The airy, eerily quiet tunnel is a perfect place to observe the bustling kingdom below in the summer months, though a bit chilly for January. Even so, Eugene does not feel as though he _deserves_ the warmth of his fireplace today, so he has opted to participate in his own little pity party, right here in the evening cold.

The only thing keeping him relatively warm as he presses his back to the stone castle wall, is the thought of Rapunzel's pretty face, and the cigarette latched between his lips as he sucks the smoke into his lungs.

The cigarette doesn't taste like it used to – not when he has Rapunzel's lips to compare it to. He actually feels a little guilty for smoking, breaking his year-long hiatus from the unhealthy habit. But then again, Eugene has a _lot_ to feel guilty about today. So, instead, he tries to focus on the golden sunbeams reflecting upon the harbor, and the way that Rapunzel would likely comment on how beautiful the scene before him is, and not his insatiable guilt.

Eugene had given up smoking soon after he'd moved into the castle, for her. Not because she'd forced him to – once, Rapunzel had actually asked if she could try a cigarette for herself, though he'd chuckled and told her that he wouldn't be responsible for the _princess_ picking up such an undignified habit. But, just as she always does, Rapunzel had broken him down with her big, green eyes, adorable curiousness, and innocent smile. She was always so eager to learn new things, always so desperate for _him_ to be the one to teach them to her, and this is Eugene's weakness. _She_ is his weakness – teaching her all of the things that she shouldn't know, is his weakness. His guiltiest pleasure, perhaps.

So, Eugene had allowed her a very small, very short pull from his cigarette. She'd coughed and coughed, and he'd laughed, and she'd slapped his shoulder, chiding him for actually letting her try such a horrible, bad-tasting thing.

He quit a week later.

He quit, because smoking had become more of a nervous tic than a cool habit – and he didn't need to try to be cool around her, anyway. Rapunzel had coaxed poor orphan Eugene Fitzherbert right out of him, had crushed the charismatic Flynn Rider persona in her sweet, unknowing hands. She didn't _want_ him to be cool. She just wanted him to be himself, in a unique way that _no one_ had ever yearned for the real him before. He liked it.

So, Eugene had traded cool, unbothered, and un-tie-down-able, for goofy and charming, lovesick and affectionate. He traded Flynn Rider for the parts of him that he never really liked before _she_ liked them – the parts of him which he had once deemed weak and un-useful in his chosen line of work. Flynn would still come out to play from time to time, in the form of a crude joke or sarcastic comment.

For the most part, though, Eugene actually kind of _liked_ not having to put on a show for her, not having to use the smolder to get what he wanted. It was all so simple with Rapunzel, in a way that Eugene had never experienced before, because he didn't have to pretend to _be_ anything. There were no tricks up his sleeve to get her in bed – she just wanted him. There was no bitter cycle of unhealthy communication, no toxic timeline of on-and-off-again failures, no one-night-stands which lacked feeling or strings. Everything with her was highly charged – not in the destructive way, but in the _'I can't get enough of you'_ kind of way. He simply adored her each day, and for Rapunzel, that was always more than enough. Though Eugene had struggled a little with his sudden loss of identity in the first few weeks of living in the castle, giving up Flynn Rider was _much_ better than the thought of ever giving up her.

Now, it feels as though he must give her up, whether he likes it or not, if only because Eugene honestly can't see any other way out of this shitstorm of a situation – except for convincing Rapunzel to run away, which he knows she won't do. Not when her sense of duty to her kingdom is so secure, and their future is suddenly so… _not_ secure.

Eugene considers Lance's words from many weeks ago, when he and Rapunzel's affair had first began. He recalls his childhood best friend's not-so-subtle pleas for Eugene to leave the castle with him, resurrecting their life of crime together. Eugene considers _his_ pathetically selfish plea in the garden for Rapunzel to run away with him, just the other night. There are so many quick-fixing, yet ultimately unsatisfying avenues in which Eugene could take to free himself from this disastrous situation, and not a single one of them looks appealing – not unless _she_ is at the end of it.

But he knows they can't do that, can't run away together. Even if Rapunzel is heartbreakingly furious with her parents right now, she still loves them deeply, and she wouldn't leave – not after just gaining them barely a year and a half ago. And he can't expect her to leave her beloved parents, her adoring subjects – _wouldn't_ expect her to. Her duty is too great, has too strong a hold on her, for Rapunzel to abandon her kingdom now. If she were a selfish person, perhaps she would consider the notion of running away with him more seriously. But she is not.

It's something that Eugene usually adores about her: her willingness to love and help others, never expecting anything in return. There aren't many people like that anymore. That atypical love of hers – it's her greatest attribute, and it's what will make her a kickass queen someday. But right now, wallowing in the guilt and agony of being away from her like this, Rapunzel's selflessness is not a virtue which he can appreciate. Not today.

Sitting here on the uncomfortable stone ledge, Eugene is trying his honest-to-goodness best to find the good in this situation – to find the good in his _life_ – but the good things in life have always been hard for him to find, what with the unlucky hand of cards that he'd been dealt. He didn't start looking from that sickeningly positive, happy-go-lucky perspective until he met Rapunzel, and that undeniable sunshine of hers rubbed right off on him in warm, inviting beams.

How is he supposed to see the good in life without her? She quite literally _is_ the good. She's his best, and without her, he can't possibly _not_ be his worst. For goodness sake, he's already smoking again! Eugene can feel himself slipping, and he doesn't want to, but he also doesn't know how to stop – not without her here to pull him back up again, to force him to see the sun.

Alone, Eugene has convinced himself, there is no good in him. Without Rapunzel giving him a _reason_ to be good, he has no redeeming qualities. He is not a _'good'_ man – not when he is without her. Without her, he makes all of the wrong decisions, and makes a mess of his life, and knows only one thing: selfishness. Without her, he is the opposite of everything that she believes in, everything that she lives for. He knows that he doesn't _want_ to be that person anymore. But he has no course of direction without Rapunzel, no _idea_ how to be anyone else but the person that he once was.

Without her, it would be so _easy_ to be Flynn Rider again. It really would. Without her, it would be oh-so-simple to slip back into that role, and never look back.

Honestly, Eugene had really never given a shit about what happened to him, about how he treated his body – not until he'd met her. Before her, his body wasn't the 'temple' that everyone so often claimed that it was. Eugene took care of himself, sure – he'd always had a bit of a fascination with proper grooming and hygiene. He was egotistical and vain. But he'd smoked, and he'd regularly drank men twice his size under the table, and he'd had more one-night-stands than he would proudly admit. But, after falling so desperately in love with Rapunzel, Eugene had decided that he wanted to live for as long as he possibly could. He wanted to grow very, very old with her.

He wanted to be good for her. Because she is good, and she deserves good.

So, he tried not to smoke, and he reeled back his drinking, which was saved mostly for regal events and parties, as well as the occasional visit to the Snuggly Duckling, when Rapunzel insisted upon visiting her burly friends. Even then, Eugene wouldn't allow himself to get past happily buzzed, as he typically had to chase a barefoot princess through the castle halls, keeping her out of trouble as he'd once promised her parents that he would.

Really, it often felt as though he were stonecold sober, and _she_ were the drunk one. Her high-energy personality made Rapunzel appear as such after the fancy balls that they were often expected to attend, but Eugene wouldn't want her any other way – he wanted his overly-curious, highly-sensitive, energetic princess over any other woman that he could choose from. He surely wasn't having one-night-stands anymore, unless you count all of the times in which Rapunzel had snuck to his bedroom – which was a lot of times. In a year's time, Rapunzel had gotten as good at slinking through the shadows as Eugene was, though he had _years_ of perfecting the art of tactical stealth on his side, and she had eighteen years trapped in a tower. Her ability to so quickly pick up on _everything_ that he taught her, never failed to surprise him.

Regardless, Eugene has given up so much of what he'd known before her, in the hopes of a future with Rapunzel – general intoxication, and thievery, and the four-step plan that he often facilitated when it came to attractive women: introduce yourself, smolder, bed, leave before sun-up. He _happily_ gave these things up, because he'd genuinely been desperate to be good enough for Rapunzel – to be a good, respectable man for a princess as perfect as her. Really, he just wanted to make her happy, wanted to see the way that her face used to light up so frequently, before everything changed. And if they ended up in bed by the end of the night, drawing little moans from each other, well… that was just a bonus. But it wasn't why he wanted her. Eugene wanted her – _wants_ her – because she is the only reason that he has ever been good.

He'd been told his entire life that he would never amount to anything. And here he is, drawing his value against a girl so undeniably perfect that he couldn't measure up if he tried – _especially_ not without her.

In all honesty, Eugene has never missed any of the things that he'd given up when he'd moved into the castle. Because, back then, he'd had _her_ to replace any bad habit that he might miss. Being around her all in itself was a little like being intoxicated, because his heart beat too fast, and he got incredibly lightheaded and giddy, and his stomach burst into these ever-present butterflies which he couldn't squash if he wanted to.

He didn't need to steal anything anymore, because she came with this package deal of that now-silly crown which he'd once stolen, leading him to something far more valuable, leading him right to _her_. He didn't love her because she was a princess, but it was surely a perk of circumstance – a stroke of good luck which he surely didn't deserve. And the smolder… well, that never worked on her, anyway. But it didn't matter, because she was highly adept to every brush of the hand, every hidden, dark look that he gave her over dinner or at a party. Every look that whispered, _'Soon?' 'Soon.'_ _Soon we'll be alone._ Eugene had never needed to do anything special to get her to want him. She just did, and he liked it that way.

So, in real time, Eugene takes a drawn-out pull from the cigarette – only because the possibility of growing old with her isn't looking so promising anymore, and because he is not good. Not without her.

"Eugene."

A soft voice lingers in the perfectly silent air behind him, causing Eugene to jump in his slightly uncomfortable sitting position. He quickly turns from his spot on the ledge, where he's curled his knees up to his chest in attempts to keep himself warm.

_Arianna._

Eugene quickly blows the smoke from his lips and moves to put out the cigarette, but the queen waves her hand dismissively.

"It's okay." She says quietly, almost timidly, toeing toward him tentatively. "We all have our vices, don't we?"

Eugene sits back, wondering idly what kind of vices the _queen_ could possibly have, as she's always been so proper and kind – much more proper than he. But, Eugene supposes, she's had a _lot_ of time to practice. Regardless, he doesn't put the cigarette out, but doesn't bring it to his lips, either – he just lets it hang in the air, watching the thin, steady stream of smoke waft from it.

"Are you okay? It's quite cold for you to be out here all alone." Arianna comments, absently rubbing her arms.

Eugene sighs deeply, really not sure how to answer this very loaded, very _silly_ question.

Of course he's not okay. The only thing that he's ever truly cared about has been ripped away from him, shoved into a wedding dress, and committed to a man who wouldn't deserve her if they were the last two people on this planet. Eugene has allowed the love of his life to fall into a deep, unfixable pain, has allowed this affair of theirs to blow up into a million pieces – has allowed Rapunzel to be the collateral damage, and didn't do enough to protect her. And Eugene is angry with just about everyone for that: the king and queen, Charles. Himself.

Mostly angry with himself.

Eugene _does_ feel angry with Arianna and Frederic, he cannot deny that. But it's much more difficult to _remain_ angry with someone, when they clearly feel horribly guilty for what they've done, and when they are desperate to apologize – when they didn't fully understand the future ramifications of their decision at the time of making it. His own guilt is eating him alive, so Eugene can relate to the guilt which a mother as loving as Arianna must be feeling right now: guilt for unknowingly, _unmeaningly_ , blowing up her daughter's life. He even understands Frederic's concern-inspired threat to potentially send him away – if Eugene had a daughter of his own to protect, he would probably do the same thing.

He understands. Really, he does. But that doesn't mean that he's not utterly annoyed, because he is. Eugene has had four _months_ to allow his anger to bubble and boil just beneath the skin, slowly replacing his blood with jealousy and the anxiety of losing her for good – and recent events have only brought that anger right to the surface.

"Honestly? I've been a hell of a lot better."

Like when he was being drug to the gallows, for example. Eugene would take losing his neck over the harsh pain of losing Rapunzel any day.

"I know, Eugene. I'm _so_ sorry for… putting the two of you in this…" The queen shakes her head, looking to her feet, wanting to say, _'shitshow.'_ But, always polite, she settles for _'terrible situation.'_

Well, that's one way of looking at it.

Eugene looks away, studying the kingdom below for a long moment, running a hand through his hair, wanting to be careful with his words.

"You couldn't have known. You didn't know she would meet me. When you signed that marriage agreement…"

_When you signed her life away to a man who she wouldn't even get the chance to know without her permission._

Eugene sighs deeply, not wanting to word his frustration in a way which will destroy the special relationship that he has with the queen. Although he's angry with her, he doesn't particularly want to make Arianna feel bad, either. She's the closest thing to a mother that Eugene has ever had, and their relationship has always had a fond kind of mutual affection present.

Regardless of his past, Arianna had always treated Eugene with the same refreshing bout of redemption that Rapunzel did – the two of them believed in him, long before he believed in himself. If it weren't for Arianna's unique brand of persuasion, Frederic probably would have had Eugene's neck around a rope the moment they'd gotten Rapunzel back. Arianna, even after he was hired as a guard, would often encourage Eugene to become well-versed in the workings of consort-ship, encouraging him to attend etiquette lessons so that he would be a suitable husband to a princess one day. To keep his mind sharp, the queen would speak with him in other languages which no one but the two of them fully understood – Arianna, because of her extensive schooling to become queen, and Eugene, because of his grand adventures around the world. It was fun, this lighthearted dynamic of their relationship.

It _was –_ before shit hit the fan, and before Charles showed up.

"You couldn't have known."

Eugene finishes simply, taking a long, stressed drag from the cigarette, blowing it away from them so that the queen won't smell like smoke.

"Yes, but I still feel horribly guilty." Arianna smiles pertly, though the smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Anyway, I was wondering if… I mean, have you been with Rapunzel today? Or is she… is she hiding in your room? And don't worry, its okay if she is. I won't be angry."

Pushing his eyebrows together, Eugene shuffles on the ledge, allowing his legs to hang on either side of it. Rapunzel hadn't been in his room at all last night, or today, although he definitely wishes that she was.

"Why would I be with her? I'm an adulterous, bad influence, remember? I probably should have my bags packed by now, right?"

Eugene wouldn't normally talk to a royal family member with such a snarky tone. Flynn Rider, on the other hand, would – but Eugene wouldn't. Regardless, Eugene and Arianna had grown incredibly close in the year that he and Rapunzel had spent together in the castle – close enough to be incredibly pissed off with both the king and queen for the role in which they'd played in this shitstorm of theirs, and close enough to feel comfortable showing it.

"Eugene…" Arianna places a delicate hand to her forehead, wincing, as if a sharp pang has suddenly occurred there.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. That's not how Fred and I see you. We don't _want_ you to go. Frederic is just… you know how he gets. He's afraid of… _history_ repeating itself. We're _both_ very worried about Rapunzel. She hasn't been herself, and you know it."

The queen sighs, edging closer to him.

"But _you_ , you're like… you're like a son to us, and we… we're just trying our best to protect Rapunzel from all of this. We've never navigated this situation before. Actually, the reason that I came looking for you, is because we can't… we can't find her anywhere. We haven't seen her all afternoon. Normally, she joins us for lunch, but she didn't show. Neither did Charles. And when neither of them showed up for dinner, I just thought… well, I thought that, maybe, she would be hiding with you, after what… after what was said yesterday. So, I came looking and –"

Eugene pushes his eyebrows together, flicking the end of the cigarette between his fingers, absently watching the ashes flutter to the ground on the other side of the stone wall, his brain not completely capable of processing the queen's rambling words after the tension-filled events of the last several days. He goes to bring the cigarette to his lips once more, but stops halfway to his mouth, letting the cigarette hang there in the air as Arianna's warranted concern finally registers in his clouded mind.

"Wait. What do you _mean_ you can't find her?"

Eugene turns back to Arianna, studying the queen closely as she wrings her hands in nervous circles.

"I mean, we can't… if she's not with _you_ , then... I don't know where else –"

"She's missing. The _lost princess_ is _missing_. And you didn't think to _lead_ with that?"

Eugene could scream. He could let out all of this anger, all of this stress, all of this _longing_ for what he cannot have from his lungs, once and for all. But that would be impolite, especially in the presence of the growingly distressed queen, so he decides against it.

"I'm sorry, dear, I didn't… I didn't think… and with everything that happened yesterday, I… I understand that she needs her space right now, that she's angry with us. But we checked her room, the library, the gardens, her old bedroom… we've looked e _verywhere_. She's just not there. Frederic and I have assigned a small search party from the guard, just in case, but I just… I honestly assumed that she would've been with you. Or holed up in your room, perhaps. That's why I wasn't incredibly worried… until now."

Arianna pivots in place, hastily moving her head from side to side, as if expecting Rapunzel to magically appear at the end of the hallway and explain away where she's been all day, in that cheery, contagiously energetic way of hers.

Again, Eugene shifts his gaze to the kingdom below, contemplating the queen's words, a little too in shock to yet be in full Hysterical Boyfriend Mode. He notices an impressive ship sailing away from the kingdom, steadily taking its departure from the docks, though not even halfway across the length of the marigold harbor. Eugene notes how the slowly setting sun has painted the water a beautiful gold color which is so reminiscent of Rapunzel's once long, golden hair.

The ship sports massive, billowing sails, and a single, red flag. The flag is large, fluttering in the wind proudly – stamped on the flag, there is a seal which dons a black, cursive _M._ This particular seal looks familiar, somehow, but Eugene can't immediately put his finger on the reason why.

_M. M, M, M. Marigold, Maybe, Madly in love, Maddoline…_

_Maddoline._

_The prince of Maddoline._

Charles's face flashes in Eugene's mind, the prince's voice replaying hauntingly, and Eugene's stomach drops to his feet like a heavy sack of bricks –

_'Your ignorance, your ego, your… your stupidity. Your inability to_ _**let go of her.** _ _It's all your downfall. You let your jealousy over her blind you to what's really happening here. And when you finally come to terms with what's going on… it'll be. Too._ _**Late** _ _.'_

Eugene slowly rises from the ledge, putting out the cigarette on the stone, his legs suddenly feeling a little like gelatin. His breathing hitches, a steady stream of bile threatening its way up his throat, and he barely trusts his voice enough to use it, but he knows that he has to.

"Arianna… I don't think she's in the castle."

The queen's soft, green eyes narrow in puzzlement – eyes so reminiscent of her daughter's spirited ones – her head shaking slightly in worried confusion.

"W-what do you mean? Where else could she _be?_ "

Arianna reaches out to grasp Eugene's forearm when he doesn't answer right away, the anxiety of eighteen years without Rapunzel flashing across her face instantly.

"Eugene… what do you _mean_ she's not _here?_ "

Eugene wants to be wrong, would give _anything_ – would give his own life – to be wrong. But he knows that seal, recognizes that seal as it departs from the Kingdom of Corona. He's seen that seal a thousand times: it's the Maddolineon seal – a darkly scrawled _M_ , surrounded by a circular design of twisted vines and leaves. Eugene would know, because he'd spent several months in Maddoline when he was still playing the role of Flynn Rider, terrorizing the local population by way of petty crimes with the help of the Stabbington brothers.

Eugene wants to be wrong. He would give anything to be wrong. But he knows, can feel it deep in his bones, without a reasonable doubt: _she is on that boat._

"Fuck." This is all Eugene can say, all he can manage to breathe out. If he were smart, he'd already be running, but he's not. He's glued to the floor, his feet ultimately forgetting their purpose. " _Fuck_."

Because the love of his life is on that boat.


	21. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi, guys! 
> 
> My only real note for right now is that I will unfortunately be starting school again this coming Tuesday, which means that I will not have as much time on my hands to write. *deep sigh* This is part of the reason as to why I really wanted to get this chapter up for you guys. Regardless, this past semester, I was typically able to post a new chapter at least once a week. I will try my very best to keep that weekly tradition going. No matter what, please just try to be patient with me! I'm pretty far into my program, and being in college, while having a job as well, can be pretty demanding. Not to mention, the typical length of my chapters make them quite time consuming to complete. Nonetheless, this story is incredibly important to me, and it's my favorite pastime, so I'll absolutely try to make as much time for it as I can! Thank goodness for weekends, right?
> 
> Now, without further ado… welcome to the (hopefully entertaining) shitshow. This chapter ripped me up a bit, and I'm hoping that it does the same to you. *grins with the smile of an apologetic, yet evil writer*

**Chapter 20: The Girl Who Gave Until There Was Nothing Left of Her to Take**

_Fuck._

_Fuck, fuck,_ _**fuck** _ _._

This is the only coherent word which Eugene can think to himself as he urges Max faster, legs pressed anxiously against the white horse's coat, barreling down the cobblestone streets of Corona.

_The docks. Just get to the docks. If you get there, you can get to her, and everything will be okay, and –_

_Shit. No, everything_ _**isn't** _ _going to be okay. Because she's on the_ _**fucking ship.** _

This anxiety-ridden moment is so reminiscent of Eugene's desperate pursuit to get to Rapunzel's tower, the day that he'd escaped from prison, and _died in that very tower –_ so much so, that he feels incredibly sick – sick enough to want to halt Max on the side of the street, and hurl his guts up.

But he doesn't. Because if he can just get to that ship fast enough, if he can just get to _her_ , he can –

What? What is he going to do? Is there really anything that he _can_ do now? Is he even going to be able to get to her? Or has she sailed too far out of his reach? Has he messed up so big, so badly, that she is about to be lost, taken from them as though she were no more than a valuable asset? Eugene isn't sure, but he's sure as hell willing to die trying to catch her.

Things cannot end like this. She cannot be taken from him. They can marry her off, they can try to keep them apart, but _he_ cannot take her.

_Charles, that miserable motherfucker. He cannot take her. Not from me. I'm the guy who found her in that tower, and chopped her hair, and_ _**died** _ _for her. Doesn't he know who he's dealing with here? I'm Eugene Fitzherbert! And Rapunzel is mine: my love, my princess. Not his to take!_

The prince's name pierces through Eugene's brain, sharp enough to give him a mind-numbing headache. He's going to kill him. When he gets to Charles – when he gets to _Rapunzel_ , when he sees her sweet face and reassures himself that she's okay – he's going to kill him. He's going to kill that damn prince. And he's going to enjoy it, too.

Hooves racing on cobblestone just aren't enough to ease Eugene's panic. Nothing is – not the image of her face as it scrapes uncomfortably through his mind like long nails on a chalkboard. Not because she isn't beautiful, because she is. God, she is. But because that beautiful face of hers probably has fear etched all over it – his least favorite expression of hers, one that he's seen one-too-many times to ever want to see again: for example, watching him get stabbed right in front of her. He doesn't want to think about her fearful face, because the thought of her being taken away, is worse than any thought that he's ever had before – and Eugene has admittedly harbored a _lot_ of bad thoughts in his previously-shady life.

"Come on, Max! _Faster!_ " Eugene cries, white-knuckling the reigns, digging his heels into the trusty horse's side. "We can't lose her!"

_**I** _ _can't lose her. If I lose her, it'll be all my fault. If I lose her, I won't have anything to live for – no, don't think like that. She's not gone yet. Just get to the docks. Just get to_ _**her** _ _._

Max cranes his neck to neigh out a loud, nervous understanding, having done this before, urging himself to run faster – desperate to close the gap, desperate to have a grasp on some little shred of hope that she hasn't been lost forever.

When man and horse anxiously reach the docks, Eugene jumps from Max's back before the horse has the chance to come to a complete stop. The massive ship isn't far from the docks – perhaps it doesn't appear to be as far away as it truly is, the disgusting panic shooting through Eugene's mind playing tricks on him now. Because in his mind, she's right there! She's right there, and he knows it, and she's close enough for him to get to her now!

Without thinking, Eugene sprints down the long, rickety main dock, boots pounding, shaky legs on shaky wooden planks. Because maybe if he gets in the water, he'll be in the water _with_ her, and he'll be able to get to her fast enough that way.

As Eugene hurtles himself down the dock, his vision plunges into a depressing nostalgia, a series of beautiful memories collapsing in his mind's eye: a free-spirited girl – no, a spirited girl _locked in a tower_. Long, golden hair, and big, green eyes. _Yes, that's her._ A purple, curve-hugging dress, bare feet, a face like absolute sunshine, flowers braided intricately into her hair. Dancing in the square, then wrapped around the front of a little boat, her delicate features a picture of wonderstruck delight in the midst of the lanterns floating around her, enveloping her in a golden glow – a glow which could rival that golden hair of hers, but does not quite compare. Her dream will come true, and she will suddenly be on the search for a new one, but she will not have to look far – because _he_ is right there in that boat with her, thinking about what it would be like to run away with her and never look back.

No, that's not exactly right. That is a memory, a very good memory – but it is not reality.

 _Short,_ _ **brown**_ _hair._ Those same curious, green eyes, those same bare feet, and that same sunshiny face. But now, she is a girl with a crown resting upon her choppy haircut, sheared just before the moment in which he'd narrowly cheated death. He'd held that hair in his hands, taken its magic from her without even asking what _she_ wanted – _why doesn't anyone ever think to ask her what_ _ **she**_ _wants?_

A beautiful, gold dress, glittering in the candlelight, swishing behind her as he tugs her through the gardens – the raging, holiday party and noble guests waiting for them inside, only a far-off memory. She would follow him anywhere, she'd said, and he would gladly return the favor. And he'll kiss her, and her lips will taste like redemption and second chances, and he will love her _so_ hard, that every mistake he's ever made will be moot. And when she drags him to his bedroom, she will pant his name from those pretty lips, and he will never hear or see anything as beautiful as her again.

No, that's not exactly right. That is a memory, a very good memory – but it is not reality.

Her cheeks, they are wet and lined with crystalline tears which glitter in the candlelight. She is sad, and so is he, because their future has been blanketed in uncertainty, and it _hurts_. It hurts, because another man has tried his very best to claim her, when her heart will only ever belong with him. And she will question her worth, question their love, and it will _kill_ _him_ to see her like this, because there is _nothing_ that he can do to fix it. So, he will love her harder than ever before, and she will pant his name. And for just a few, delusional moments, they will forget. They will forget the hurt of lifelong commitments which cannot include him anymore. But when they finish, the dried tears will still be there upon her cheeks, and he will realize all over again that there is nothing he can do to help her – not really. There is nothing that he can do to reverse this mess which they have fallen so deeply into, this mess which he did not do enough to protect her from.

The tiniest little thing, with the biggest heart that you've ever seen, trapped in her own tower once more: trapped in the claws of a man who doesn't know the first thing about what it means to love her, or understand her, or adore her _so much_ that you would _die_ for her, over and over again. All of her cages will be mental, but he cannot save her from this kind, because he's lost the key and cannot get inside far enough to find her again.

 _That's her._ The girl with the curious, green eyes, which shred crystalline tears which cannot be fully wiped away. The girl who takes her duty to her kingdom so seriously, that she would never _dream_ of putting her people in misery in order to release _herself_ from misery.

The girl who gives, and gives, until there is nothing left of her for others to take.

Adored by her kingdom, and loved by him, _and always being stolen away by someone who does not deserve her._

How many times can she go through this? How many times can she be taken, before there is nothing left of her to steal?

Eugene finally arrives at the end of the dock, diving headfirst into the icy water without refrain. The bitterness of the harbor hits him like the weight of a million bricks, sucking the air from his lungs. He fights to the choppy surface, gasping for his stolen breath, his arms pulling strong strokes toward the ship.

But it's too far gone now – sails billowing, bouncing upon the waves – _his princess_ too far gone.

After his arms begin to feel like gelatin, Eugene takes pause. Not because he wants to, but because he cannot breathe, the sharp coldness of the water and the anxiety of the situation taking his heartrate on a dangerous uphill battle. Gasping for air as he treads in place, Eugene gauges the distance between himself and the massive ship. He hasn't been swallowed by shock quite enough to _not_ recognize sheer reality in his half-beating heart: he's never going to catch up.

Because he's just one man, and one man cannot fix this. Not even him, regardless of his unmatchable desperation to get to her. His love for her is not enough to _save_ her.

Maybe it never was.

The golden glow of the setting sun upon the harbor is mocking him. It's mocking him, because it's so painfully reminiscent of the way that the harbor had looked, the way that her _face_ had looked, with the hundreds and hundreds of lanterns hovering over it. That day, he never would've guessed that he would've fallen as in love with her as he has, he never would've guessed that he would've died for her, and he surely never would've guessed that she would be taken from him, time and time again. And this time is just too much to bear.

And he tries to find the good in that memory, tries to find the good in that golden night that he'd taken her to see the lanterns, the day that he'd accompanied her on her little bout of teenage rebellion – the day that he would fall pathetically in love her. But he cannot, not anymore – he cannot find the good in that day, not when every golden thing reminds him of her. Not when the sun is sinking too fast and she is sailing away too far.

In his self-deprecating anger, not entirely sure if he should laugh in shock or cry in bottled-up anguish, Eugene slaps his palms to the surface of the water, hard. A numbing pain shoots through both of his tired arms, and he fights to keep himself afloat, his limbs trembling from the frigid temperature of the water, as well as from the exhaustion of coming down from a shaky adrenaline high.

_Arms._

Eugene shakes his head, treading forward, noticing a dark figure hanging over the ship's railing. Arms are waving, desperately leaning over the ship's edge. Eugene squints, hard.

 _Her_ arms. Her arms, waving frantically, her short hair tousled and wind-blown, her little body bouncing up and down anxiously – trying to get his attention.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

"Rapunzel!" Eugene screams, his lungs threatening to give out, _aching_ for her to hear him, having taken in so much of the bitter-cold water.

But he doesn't care. Not about his lungs, not about his wellbeing, not about anything but her. He needs her to hear him, needs her to see him swimming after her. He needs her to know that he came, that he chased – that he _fought_ for her.

Because if she doesn't, she'll think that he abandoned her with _him_ , and Eugene just can't imagine a worse alternative, a worse _end_ to their story.

_No, this is_ _**not** _ _the end. This is not the end for her, this is not the end for us._

Why does it feel that way, then?

" _RAPUNZEL!_ "

But she can't hear him, can't hear his screams for her, and he knows it. She's gone, as though she were the sun sinking into the horizon over the harbor, providing the most enchanting sunset: golden, and beautiful, and slipping away far too quickly, before there is time to truly appreciate it.

A little like her.

And then, a _second_ figure is visible from the ship, covering her mouth and pulling her back, and it doesn't take more than an anxiety-induced moment for Eugene to realize the only person that figure could be.

"No. No, no, no, no!" Eugene plows forward, desperately pulling himself through the icy water. But it's no use.

_**He** _ _has her now._

He's won. Charles, he's won, and the prince was right. The foreshadowed pain which he'd threatened at the party the other night, was true, and unfolding before their very eyes now: Eugene's selfish inability to just let go of her, _is_ his downfall. She is his weakness, and he'd allowed himself to get so weak – weak enough to forget that _protecting_ her, is even more important than being with her! And now that Eugene realizes what's really happening… it's too late, just as the prince had warned it would be.

_It's too late, it's too late –_

Eugene had left Arianna standing there in that exterior hallway in the castle with that frantic, motherly look in her green eyes, the harsh unease of eighteen years without Rapunzel settling in all over again, rushing through her mind at once, like a broken dam. He'd put out his cigarette hastily when he'd realized that she was on that ship, had cursed himself for being so _stupid_ , and he'd promised something that he never should have promised. The smoke had still lingered between them as he desperately hurried from the chilly corridor – but even more so, the anxiety of _losing her_ had lingered between Eugene and the queen like a bad omen, because they both knew. Deep down, they knew.

He'd just promised something to the queen that he never should have.

_'I'll get her! I'll get her.'_

That's what he'd yelled over his shoulder to Arianna, what he'd _promised_ when he'd finally escaped the iron grip of his shock, had escaped enough to sprint from the castle and straight to the stables where Max would be waiting for him, ready to sprint through this kingdom to save their princess… just as they had so many months before.

_I'll get her._

The words echo in Eugene's mind now, and if he didn't need to stay alive to get her back, he would kill himself for uttering them. That's what he'd promised, because he's an idiot. He'd promised Arianna that when he returned to the castle, _she_ would be there with him. Their precious, sweet princess would be safe, and she would be his, and she wouldn't be taken away from each of them all over again. She wouldn't be taken – she _couldn't_ be taken – because they've already been through this before!

But hadn't Rapunzel warned him once, not all that long ago, not to make promises that he cannot keep?

The fact of his broken promise finally sinks in, in the same way that Eugene just wants to sink down to the watery floor of the harbor, and never breathe again. He realizes that he will have to return to the castle, head hung low, and will have to tell the queen that his promise was an empty one. Because there is no shock left to hide in, no adrenaline left to operate on, no lovesick delusion left to blame – delusion provided by still having her in his bed, safe in his arms. There is no rose-colored vision, brought about by believing that loving one another would be enough – even if they have to do so in secret. The shock has faded, the adrenaline rushed away, the rose-colored glasses shattered at the lenses – shattered by the unforgiving hands of that _motherfucking prince._

Eugene is left with nothing but his shivering body, and the stark white sails of the ship coloring a harsh contrast against the golden sky, and the image of the prince's hand over her mouth, silencing her screams – her screams for him. Her screams for him to save her. And he hadn't been there, hadn't been there to look after her, to protect her – like he'd _promised_ her parents he would always do on the day that he came here.

_Another fucking promise that he could not keep._

The reality of the situation settles in Eugene's bones like dust that he's trying very hard not to choke on – or maybe those are his tears – and he feels the sudden urge to throw up again. Right here in the harbor, right here in the choppy, bitter waves.

He'd _promised_ her that they would only be apart for a night or two – that staying away from one another after the inevitable explosion of their affair, would be best. And she'd trusted him so blindly, so lovingly, had trusted his judgement without a nagging doubt – had trusted that he would know what to do from here. Hadn't he learned from that night, that night when she'd run into Stalyan in the hall, that leaving her alone would _never_ be the best? Not because she can't take care of herself, but because everyone seems to be hell-bent on hurting her?

And worst of all, Charles had _warned_ him! The prince had blatantly warned him what would happen if he didn't let her go, and now his own selfishness is going to destroy her!

She'd reassured him that she would stay put in her old bedroom until he came for her, that she would be safe there. But she _wasn't_ safe, not with Charles around, and Eugene should've taken the prince's threats more seriously. He should've known better. He should've known better than to underestimate someone like Charles – someone desperate, and angry, and jealous. He should've known better than to think that she would be safe with her husband in that castle.

She wasn't safe, because _he_ hadn't been there to keep her that way. He's let her down, in the worst way that he possibly could have, because she's about to live through a nightmare which she's already experienced before – but this time, she won't be a baby, and she won't be able to forget what's happening to her. She's going to remember this. She's going to be absolutely _traumatized_. And it's going to be his own fault, because he never, _never_ should have let her go, not even for a single night.

Because it only takes a single night for Charles to get lonely enough to want her, lonely enough to realize that the thought of getting the princess all alone – that having her all to himself – sounds pretty damn good. Because misery likes company, and Charles is the Prince of Misery. And now, he has her in his nasty grasp, about to make her every kind of miserable that he possibly can – Charles will make her miserable for still loving him.

_And he has her! Oh, God, he has her. He's going to hurt her. And if she's gone, I'm never going to be okay again, I'm never going to be able to forgive myself for_ _**letting him** _ _take her! I don't deserve her, I never did, because_ _**I** _ _let this happen, and –_

And just like that, she is gone. Eugene Fitzherbert's princess is gone, and along with her, every piece of his broken heart.

* * *

' _ **I won't say I told you so, you're never gonna go back home**_

_**He won't be there, not anymore. What can I say? I told you so…'** _

_The soft singing eases Rapunzel from a heavy slumber, her eyes blinking rapidly, trying their best to groggily adjust to the bitter darkness of her surroundings. The wooden rafters of the tower, though unexpected, are eerily familiar, and she immediately hates that about them._

_She hates that they feel like home._

_Rapunzel sits up quickly, recognizing the soft texture of her old, lilac duvet beneath her fingers. She doesn't want to be back here, had never wanted to step_ _**foot** _ _in this place again. Because this place stands for everything that she hates: lies, and loss, and death._

_His death._

_Every candle has been extinguished, every curtain drawn. There is not an ounce of light seeping through the window, not a ray of sunshine beaming through the dark – the darkness of her small bedroom which had once been so comforting, now feels untrustworthy and jarring._

_How had she ever lived here in this suffocating tower? How had she ever thought herself to be_ _**happy** _ _here? There is no happiness here – not when she knows the truth._

_Not when she knows that, in this place, she is nothing more than a head of hair._

_"Hello, dear. I'm so glad that you've finally decided to join us!"_

_Rapunzel recognizes that theatrical, shrill voice. She doesn't need to guess who the voice belongs to, doesn't need to think hard to recall the face which accompanies it – no, that face has haunted Rapunzel's dreams far too many times since the last time that she was here in this place – too many times to forget it's every curve, it's every feature, it's every look of guiltless manipulation._

_Rapunzel's breath catches in her dry throat, her eyes grow wide, and she suddenly knows that she is not safe anymore. There is no painting which will be pretty enough, no word which she won't mumble, and no stabbing insult which should not be taken as a petty joke._

_She is not safe here. She is not loved here. She is_ _**tolerated** _ _here, only because what she has to offer, is too valuable not to._

_"Moth…" Rapunzel swallows, hard, immediately so ashamed of herself for the broken word that she feels a furious blush creeping its way up her neck._

_No. This is not her mother. Her mother is soft, and warm, and looks just like her. She allows Rapunzel to hug her whenever she wants, and she runs her fingers through her hair when she does – not because it is magic, but because her mother loves every piece of her. Her mother lives in a castle, and doesn't care what her hair can or cannot do, and she doesn't lie to her. Her mother loves her. Her mother loves her for who she_ _**is** _ _, loves her for what is inside of her heart – not for what she has to offer_ _**to** _ _her._

_This… this is_ _**not** _ _her mother. The cloaked woman who is standing there in the shadowed corner of Rapunzel's tower bedroom, inspecting her long fingernails, a knowing smile upon her lips, as if she'd been waiting here for Rapunzel all along… this is the woman which Rapunzel had_ _**thought** _ _to be her mother, because she did not know any better._

' _No, she… she's supposed to be dust.' Rapunzel converses with herself anxiously. 'She's not real,_ _ **this**_ _isn't real –'_

_But she breathes a half-hearted, unmeaning greeting anyway, only because her brain is going into a numbing shock which cannot be helped._

" _Gothel."_

_"Oh, Rapunzel. How I've missed you, my flower!" The old woman rushes forward, running her veiny hands through Rapunzel's golden hair, caressing the long locks more than the young girl herself._

' _My hair. My hair, I… I have my hair.' Rapunzel thinks frantically, allowing her gaze to follow the waterfall of golden hair across her bed, across the floor, where it snakes and curves, disappearing on the other side of her pushed-back bedroom curtains. 'I don't_ _ **want**_ _my hair! Because if I still have my hair, that means… it means that he –'_

" _You've been gone for far too long, you know, pretending to be a princess."_

_The witch scoffs, her delicately possessive fingers brushing through Rapunzel's hair once more, as though it were a long-lost friend who she has not seen in a very long time – as though Gothel were a child, and the hair is the first piece of candy from the candy dish which she has been allowed to dissolve on her tongue in months._

" _ **This**_ _is where you belong." Gothel reasons, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "This has_ _ **always**_ _been where you belong. Right here with me, Flower."_

_The witch turns to her, as though she were seeking some kind of twisted reassurance. This surprises Rapunzel, because Gothel has never asked for her opinion on anything before._

" _You know that, don't you, dear? Oh, and your_ _ **hair!**_ _I thought that I would never see it again!"_

_Rapunzel shakes her head, wanting to pull away, but knowing that she can't – wanting to defend herself, but knowing that she can't. Because for some infuriating reason, she is unable to fully process the old woman's presence – at least, enough to know that she should be running by now._

" _Why don't you sing for Mother, hmm?" The silver-haired woman suggests, batting her dark eyelashes convincingly, trying to provoke some sorry feeling from deep within Rapunzel's heart, wielding the emotion of utter_ _ **guilt**_ _in the way that she's always been so good at. "Just like you used to. Mother's been feeling a little run down."_

_"D—don't… don't do it…"_

_Rapunzel cranes her neck to where the_ _**second** _ _voice is coming from, suddenly noticing a curled-up figure on the floor in the main room of the tower, near the drawn, dragging curtains hanging from the window, strategically concealing every possible beam of sunlight._

_Rising from the bed, Rapunzel rushes down the staircase, an ugly feeling of trepidation coursing through her veins. She squints her eyes in the dull tower light as she creeps forward tentatively, afraid of what she might see. Rapunzel notices a seeping, dark liquid on the cold, stone floor, pooling beneath the writhing figure._

_"Rapunzel…"_

_That voice! Oh, that voice! It's the voice which could launch a thousand ships, could make her do anything that he pleases – the voice which she would give_ _**everything** _ _to hear every day for the rest of her life. Right now, this voice is strangled, and just barely above a hoarse, pained whisper._

_"Eugene!" Rapunzel immediately sinks to her knees, gently turning him over to inspect the spot which his arm is now clutching, the spot which the rest of his body is curled tightly, protectively around – revealing a deep stab wound, seeping with that dark liquid which has pooled on the floor, which Rapunzel now realizes is his blood._

' _How did this happen? Where was I, how could I have let this happen to him? I should've been there, I should've been there to protect him –'_

_Eugene lets out a low, pathetic moan, clearly trying his very hardest not to release the sobs building in his chest._

_"Oh, Eugene… I'm here, I'm right here." Rapunzel anxiously brushes the fallen hair from his eyes, caressing his cheeks and clenched jaw for just a moment before pulling her shaking fingers away, afraid of hurting him further. "I-I love you. Let me help you."_

_She frantically grabs a fistful of her golden hair, prepared to press it to his gaping wound. But Eugene weakly grabs at her wrist, pushing it away, forcing a bitter sense of déjà vu to run through her._

_"No…" Eugene groans, shoving her arm back as she tries to fight her way to the red-rimmed injury. He curls himself around his abdomen, denying her assess. "No, Rapunzel… Go, go home… they're gonna hurt you… and your parents... Th-they'll be worried about you…"_

_"But what about_ _**you** _ _?" Rapunzel cries, fighting his hand as he continues to push her away._

' _No, I can't lose him! Not again!'_

_He's fading, and fast, his breathing shallow and labored. She can see it in his eyes, the light draining from them quicker than she can process. Those gorgeous, brown eyes which she has stared into so frequently – eyes which know all of her darkest secrets, eyes which have memorized every inch of her unclothed body, eyes which have sent her into the deep end far too many times to count. He looks up at her now, tears pricking in the corners of those beautiful eyes._

_With his remaining strength, Eugene cranes his neck, placing a shaky hand to the side of her face, and kissing her lips gently._

_"Go home, Sunshine…" His mouth brushes hers as he speaks, and she wants to lean in again, wants to feel his lips upon hers for as long as she possibly can. But he ultimately pulls away, the unfought feebleness written all over his face._

' _No, we've already done this before! I saved him, he_ _ **lived**_ _!'_

_"Eugene, what… what're you_ _**talking** _ _about?_ _**You** _ _are my home! I'm not leaving you like this!"_

_He smiles at that, a weak smile, his eyes fluttering briefly closed._

_"I love you so much, Blondie… You're the only thing I ever did right."_

_"I love you, too!" She whimpers, pushing his hair from his face. "But why are you talking like this? Like you're leaving me?!"_

_"Now go find a new dream." He whispers to her softly, and if she didn't know any better, Rapunzel would tell him that he's so handsome while saying goodbye, that he should be ashamed of himself._

_But this isn't goodbye!_

" _Eugene,_ _ **you**_ _are my dream! I can't just find a new one, you silly goose!" Rapunzel laughs, if only to evade the pathetic amount of tears dripping down her cheeks. "Everything's going to be okay, if you'd just let me –"_

_But it's too late. Those beautiful almond eyes have slipped shut, and his clenched hand falls from her face, hitting the floor with a traumatic_ _**thunk** _ _._

_"Eugene?" Rapunzel pulls back, shaking him gently, not quite understanding his sudden loss of consciousness. Maybe he passed out from the blood loss._

" _ **Eugene**_ _."_

_Rapunzel mutters his name again, a bit more firmly. When he doesn't respond, an anxious energy rips through her. She grabs at his shoulder, shaking him harder._

_"Eugene! Eugene, wake up!" She continues to shake him, growing irritated now, and Rapunzel doesn't have half a mind to realize that she's dry heaving._

" _Stop it! I know that you're just kidding around, because we've already… we've already_ _ **done**_ _ **this**_ _before, and I… I saved you, and you're my dream, and I'm yours, and I… oh God, I need you! Eugene, wake_ _ **up**_ _! I can't do this without you!"_

_"Oh, but darling… why would you need him, when you have_ _**me** _ _?"_

_Whirring around, Rapunzel realizes that Gothel is no longer the enemy of hers which stands here in the dark tower, but her husband – a knowing smile on his sarcasm-lined lips._

_"He was never going to be able to save you, nor were you going to be able to save him." Charles stops just before her crouched figure, his dress shoes clicking crisply against the stone tower floor. "You know that, don't you?"_

_Rapunzel shrinks back as Charles slinks toward her – a cat, monitoring every little movement of his prey._

_"_ _**You** _ _did this. You did this to him, didn't you?"_

_The princess demands, glaring at the proud face of her distain-worthy husband, clutching Eugene's head to her chest protectively, as if to keep him away from the prince, though Eugene is clearly already gone. He can't be hurt anymore, he's safe now – somewhere warm, and sunny – on that island he'd always wanted, perhaps. Wherever he is, he's okay now._

_But she isn't._

" _You did this. DIDN'T YOU?" Rapunzel screams up at her husband, begging him of the truth once more, angry tears streaming down her cheeks._

_"No, darling. I didn't do this to him." Charles smiles softly. "_ _**You** _ _did."_

_Drawing a hand from Eugene's hair, Rapunzel sees –_ _**feels** _ _– the sticky, red liquid covering her palm, her fingers. The blood is mostly dried now, but just fresh enough for her skin to still smell of its strong, irony scent. His scent._

_"His blood is on_ _**your** _ _hands, Princess." The arrogant prince clicks his tongue, stepping over Eugene's lifeless form to circle around the two lovers. "It's a shame, really._ _**I'd** _ _always wanted to be the one to get rid of him. But you did the honors for me, so I guess I should really be thanking you."_

_Rapunzel shakes her head frantically, her deep-rooted inability to trust her husband at an all-time high. She wouldn't trust a_ _**word** _ _that he says – not with the love of her life dead in her arms._

_"I don't believe you. I wouldn't… I didn't…"_

_Charles suddenly crouches beside her, placing a hand under his wife's chin, his voice grown harsh. Rapunzel quickly jerks away, burrowing her face in Eugene's hair, as if doing so will shoo her husband's smooth, mocking voice away – as if Eugene's lifeless body will somehow be enough to keep her safe now._

_But she is the one who is afraid, not Charles – she cannot shoo him away, she cannot escape him now. Eugene had been her only shelter to run to, and now he is not here. He is gone, and with him, her only sense of comfort, her only place to hide._

_"Of_ _**course** _ _you did. If it weren't for you, he never would've come here. He_ _**tried** _ _to save you, Princess, and you did nothing to return the favor. Poor guy. He came here thinking that you would defend him in the same way that he defends you."_

_Charles reaches down to pat Eugene's leather-clad shoulder in a mockingly apologetic gesture, and Rapunzel shoves his hand away, clutching Eugene tighter to her._

_"Don't touch him. Don't you touch him!"_

_"What does it matter? He's gone." Charles chuckles, ignoring his wife's gritted teeth and angry gaze, a menacing humor glinting in his own dark eyes. "He's gone because of_ _**you** _ _."_

_"Shut up! You're lying!" Rapunzel yells to her snickering husband, pressing her lips to Eugene's temple, whispering to him now. "He's lying, Eugene, don't worry. I would never hurt you. I love you."_

" _Loving you_ _ **killed**_ _him." Charles mocks, hovering slightly over her like a hungry vulture._

" _Shut up!" Rapunzel screams, desperate to get her husband's voice_ _ **out of her head.**_

_Charles slowly stands, brushing a hand through her long, golden hair on his way up._

_"I like the hair, by the way. But really, I'm just glad that he's finally out of our way. Now, we can finally be together, just the two of us… forever."_

_"No! He's my forever." Rapunzel clutches Eugene's head tighter to her chest, rocking him back and forth, tucking her face into his neck. She whispers soothing words that only he could understand against his still-warm skin._

" _Don't listen to him, Eugene. You're my dream. You're my best. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."_

_But he can't hear her, and a deeply broken part of Rapunzel knows it. Her endearing words have fallen upon deaf ears – ears which are no longer capable of hearing her never-ending devotion. And then she feels her husband's rough hands on her shoulders, and Rapunzel sobs against the lifeless form of the man that she would've done anything to save._

_"Let him go, Rapunzel."_

_She feels her hands being yanked away from Eugene, but she immediately pulls them back, clinging to his body stubbornly._

_"No!" She's crying now, uncontrollable rivers of tears, flowing and shining like crystals against her cheeks. "I'm not leaving him!"_

_"I said,_ _**let him go!** _ _"_

_"I can't! I can't, I can't, I can't…"_

_Rapunzel sobs into Eugene's shirt, clutching the collar of his leather vest. Clutching his collar in the same way that she once had, when she'd pulled him into a kiss – their_ _**first** _ _kiss – so innocent, and so inexperienced, yet so perfect. And then, she'd gone_ _**home** _ _, and he'd taught her everything that she ever could've wanted to know – everything that she_ _**shouldn't** _ _know, but would die to learn for his sake. She would die to please him, would die to make him happy, would die to hear that beautiful voice explaining exactly what he needs from her._

_And now, he'll never be there to teach her anything again._

_"Rapunzel, he's_ _**gone** _ _! He's not going to save you! You need to accept what you've done!"_

_"No! I don't believe you, I don't believe you! Just… just shut up! Shut up!"_

_"Accept what you've done!"_

_"Get out!" Rapunzel begs, her body wracked with the pathetic sobs of unhealable loss, rocking Eugene to her again as she does so. "Get out, get out… get out of my head!"_

_Her husband bends down, taking her by the chin once more, forcing Rapunzel to look up at him – forcing her face from Eugene's neck, forcing her to engage with his menacing eyes, his too-white smile – forcing her to stop being so distracted by Eugene, and distracted by his softly-spoken, merciless words, instead._

_"I'm not in your head, Princess. I'm right here." Charles leans forward, as if longing to capture her lips. "And I_ _**always** _ _will be."_

_Desperate to escape his gaze, Rapunzel squeezes her eyes shut – desperate to find a way to console herself, now that Eugene is not here to do it for her._

_"You're not real. You're not real,_ _**none** _ _of this is real!"_

_Though Charles has escaped her vision, Rapunzel's ears cannot escape his putrid voice._

_"I_ _**am** _ _real, darling, and you need to accept what you've done."_

_"No, I won't! I wouldn't hurt him!"_

_"Accept it, now! ACCEPT WHAT YOU'VE DONE, RAPUNZEL!"_

Rapunzel awakens to a soft, jolting motion in a bed which is not her own. The ceiling rocks back and forth, and the princess shoots both hands out to steady herself – though, there is nothing to grab onto, except for the scratchy blankets beneath her.

She sits up abruptly – heart pounding, head swimming, as though she'd just let Eugene spin her around the castle in a wheeled chair for a little too long.

" _Oh_ …" The princess moans, bringing her fingers to her temple, desperate to find some relief from the uncomfortable, too-fast rushing sensation in her skull. She's never felt so dizzy in her life. "Just a dream…"

A really bad, really _traumatic_ dream.

The little, paneled room which she's found herself in, is poignantly dark – save for a single, circular window, which allows the golden light from the outside world to filter in. Dragging herself from the creaky bed, Rapunzel forces herself to stand upon wobbly legs, the constant teetering of the floor not doing her weak body any favors. She latches her fingers around the door handle, pulling the wooden door open, squinting her groggy eyes against the sudden flush of bright, golden light.

The disoriented princess steps forward tentatively, gauging her surroundings. Sails billow overhead, and suddenly, the swaying floor makes a whole lot of sense. She's sailing _away_ from the kingdom. Rapunzel tries to pick her mind, tries her very hardest to recall the events of the day. But she doesn't remember how she got on this ship, doesn't even remember leaving the castle at all…

Studying the resplendent skyline, Rapunzel notices a dark figure sprinting down the main dock in the gold, mid-sunset light. She squints, hard, trying her best to wade through the fog of her cloudy head.

White shirt, leather vest, dark hair –

_Eugene._

It's _Eugene_ running down the dock, Eugene sprinting toward her. _Of course it is!_

But if he's not on the boat with her, then… that means she must be with… who was the last person that she'd spoken with?

_Oh, God._

"Eugene!" Rapunzel screams, frantically moving to the railing, waving her weak, heavy arms over her head. " _EUGENE!_ "

_He knows! He knows that I'm on the boat! He knows, and he's coming for me, just like he_ _**always** _ _will! That nightmare was wrong, all wrong – of_ _**course** _ _he's going to save me, because he always does!_

"Eugene! Eu –"

"That'll be enough of _that_ , Princess."

A low voice behind Rapunzel causes her to jump, as a large hand covers her mouth, muffling her cries for her love, roughly pulling her back from the railing.

"You don't need him, anyway. You have me."

Panting hard, Rapunzel kicks and elbows, pushing the newly-arrived hands away.

" _You!_ You –"

And there he is – her husband – standing there, grinning at her.

"What was that, Princess? Did you have something that you would like to say to me?"

 _What would Eugene say? What would Eugene do?_ Rapunzel's head whips back to the wavy harbor, and the figure is gone, no longer running down the dock. _Oh, Eugene…_

"You _asshole!_ " The harsh word escapes her lips, and Rapunzel is honestly a little surprised at herself for uttering such a crude term, but she isn't sorry, either. "You can't do this! You can't _take_ me!"

"Oh, come, now… that is _no way_ for a princess to speak, let alone to her _husband_."

Rapunzel shakes her head in quiet disbelief, completely bewildered, pushing herself against the railing to get away from him.

"He's gonna kill you."

"What was that?" Charles leans forward, a sarcastic hand curling around the shell of his ear. "I'm sorry, dear, you're mumbling."

Rapunzel steps forward now, a dizzying rush of pure courage coursing through her veins (or maybe it's just a dangerous mixture of shock and adrenaline), sure that her voice is clear enough for her husband to hear.

"Eugene is gonna _kill_ _you_ for this."

"Oh, yeah? Him and what _army?_ " The proud, chuckling prince pushes a singular finger forward, pressing it into her chest, nudging Rapunzel back mockingly. "What does he have without you around?"

"He'll come for me! He will." Rapunzel states, and she's not sure if she's trying to convince Charles, or herself. Maybe just herself.

"Oh, I don't doubt it, my dear." Charles chuckles once more, as though the notion were completely ludicrous. "I mean, look at him now."

The prince nods back to the kingdom, and Rapunzel's eyes widen as she notices that same, brown-haired figure, treading in the water now, waving its hands as though it were yelling something.

_Eugene. Eugene! He's… he's in the water, he's coming for me!_

Rapunzel's eyes dart to the railing, and so do her husband's, and he knows _exactly_ what's crossed her mind. So when she rushes forward, hastily slinging a leg over the ship's sturdy railing, preparing herself to dive into the frigid water… Charles is there to pull his wife back – to _save_ her from making such a grave mistake – strong hands around her waist, tugging her tightly to his chest, where she would be safe.

"Uh, uh, uh, Princess… I don't think so. You won't be getting away from me that easily."

The furious princess thrashes in his arms, body recoiling toward the kingdom – toward _him_.

"You can't do this! Where are you taking me?"

Charles only smiles, a knowing look in his eye.

"Why, I'm taking you _home,_ of course."

_No! I already_ _**am** _ _home,_ _**he** _ _is my home!_

But Rapunzel's collapsing in her husband's arms before she can protest any further.

_Well, that's alright. If she's going to pass out so often, she will be much less likely to fight me._

* * *

Charles sighs heavily, taking a long drink from his glass, which has become the temporary home of a generous amount of amber liquor. The liquid courage goes down his throat warmly, easing his nerves only a little. In the small, paneled office, Charles leans back in his wooden chair, which has been nailed to the floor for the instance of a particularly violent storm.

He'd come for her. He'd realized her absence before they could sneak away into the night without detection, as Charles had hoped – but then again, Charles had predicted that. He'd known that Eugene Fitzherbert would notice her disappearance, had known that the thief would chase, and fight, and struggle to get to her.

Actually, it had been a little _humorous_ to watch the man hurtling himself down the dock, as if he'd had a _chance_ of catching up to them. Charles had been able to picture the panic on his face, the anxiety ripping through his body when he realized that the princess was sailing away from Corona. And really, _that's_ why the manic prince had done this: not just to have Rapunzel all to himself, though he was eager about that. But because he wanted Eugene Fitzherbert to _understand_ what it feels like to lose her affection, wanted him to understand what it feels like to have Rapunzel slip right through your fingers – what it feels like to have her _just_ beyond your reach, but not quite touchable.

And that's exactly what she was, sailing away on Charles's elegant ship, which he'd written a letter to his father to send several weeks ago now. She was so close to Eugene, yet so far away – just out of his reach, just as she'd been out of _Charles's_ reach from the moment that he'd met her. Actually, though it hadn't been a part of his original plan, Charles is _glad_ that Eugene had noticed her disappearance soon enough to realize that she was leaving on the ship – that way, Charles had been able to _watch_ him desperately try to get to her, although there was no way for him to.

Not now, now that Charles's plan back in Corona is surely being put into motion.

Really, he hadn't wanted things to come to this. Charles hadn't _wanted_ to take such drastic measures, hadn't wanted to bring any harm upon his wife – hadn't wanted to _scare_ her. And when the impressive, Maddolineon-owned ship had arrived in Corona's harbor, he'd honestly contemplated throwing away his drawn-out, calculated plan altogether.

But then, his greatest suspicions had been confirmed: the princess _was_ having an affair with that… that _thief_ of hers. And Charles no longer had a doubt in his mind that getting Rapunzel out of Corona would be the best thing for her, and the best thing for their marriage. It was clear now, that if the princess remained here in her own kingdom, their marriage would never thrive, would never grow, and would never reach a place beyond _'I'm with you because I_ _ **have**_ _to be, but my heart will always belong to someone else.'_

And knowing that her heart belongs to someone else, is a fact that Charles is finished with complacently accepting. He'd _tried_ that. In the early weeks of their courtship and eventual marriage, Charles had tried to accept that Eugene would always be inside of the princess's heart, had tried to be okay with that – had tried to get to know her, despite her especially infuriating way of always keeping herself at arm's length.

But then, it became clear that Eugene Fitzherbert would always be _inside of her – literally –_ and Charles will simply not accept that.

Not in his marriage.

There are people who would judge him – harshly – for doing this. For making this decision for her, for stripping Rapunzel of the independence which she'd only just recently gained. But what was Charles to _do_ in response to his marriage being invaded in such an angering way? _Nothing?_ No, he is not a coward, and he would not continue to be played like a sorry violin by the princess and her felonious plaything. Charles will take what is rightfully his, because that is what real men – that is what a _prince_ – would do.

He would prove himself as a capable husband, a husband capable of keeping his wife in check – would prove to _everyone_ that the princess does not have the upper hand on their marriage – as it should be! The princess has spent their entire fledging marriage walking all over him! But enough is enough. _He_ will lead _her_ , and she will listen, no longer distracted by Fitzherbert.

And they will be happy. _She_ will be happy.

It was aggravating, all of it: to know that his wife has given herself to a man who isn't her husband. It's completely unacceptable behavior. Sure, Charles has shared a bed with plenty of women who aren't Rapunzel, but he is a _man_. Such things are different when you are a man. Respectable young women of high noble class, like Rapunzel, should _know better_ than to give their virtue to anyone other than their husband. To know that he won't be the first one to have his wife, completely infuriates Charles.

Then again, there seems to be a lot that the princess _should_ know better about, but she chooses to do anyway. Like her constant lack of footwear, for example. Aren't her bare feet always sore and cold, stepping upon the cobblestone streets or marble floors of the castle? Not to mention, she always has a little _reptile_ on her shoulder, making faces at him. It makes Charles uncomfortable. And her _behavior_ – she was well-known for getting so excited about the _silliest_ of things, like the color of the sky or the warm sunshine on her face. Charles supposes, the young woman had been deprived of the simple pleasures of life for eighteen years, but she _must_ know that, as the future _Queen_ of Corona, there is a certain level of decorum which must be maintained!

Well, it doesn't matter anyway. Because Maddoline will be her home now, and she will learn what it means to be a proper young lady – a proper _wife_ – a wife who fulfills _all_ of her expected duties.

He has _tried_ to understand her quirks, has tried to convince himself that the eccentric princess will be well-received in Maddoline. But a self-conscious, insecure part of Charles, worries that she will not – and his reputation simply cannot survive a wife who does not know how to fit in. While Rapunzel's strange tics don't make the princess any less _attractive_ , they may become a problem when it comes to impressing his parents and older siblings.

After all, Charles has his three older brothers to thank for these feelings of deep-seated insecurity, for this harshly rooted _hatred_ for coming in second to just about anyone. The young prince has spent his entire life coming in last place to his brothers, fighting tooth and nail to live outside of their tall, daunting shadows. Sure, he's always been spoiled, but he has always been just _one_ step below his siblings. And now, he's spent his entire marriage coming in second place to another man. How much longer could he possibly continue feeling so inferior?

Well, no more. He and the princess would be traveling for a week's time before they would arrive in Maddoline, and Charles is determined to use this time to bond with Rapunzel, talking her down from her furious ledge, and hopefully helping her to realize that this is all for the best. Rapunzel will _surely_ come around to him by the time they arrive in his home kingdom.

Right?

_And what if_ _**he** _ _comes, as she'd so confidently suggested? What if your plan has a weakness, an unexpected loophole? What if he comes for her, and all of this work, all of this planning, has been for naught?_

_No, he won't come for her. Stalyan has promised that she would take care of that. Of him._

_And what of her parents? What if_ _**they** _ _come? They love her, unconditionally – her father's furious, protective display from the other day, proved so._

_No, you have made preparations to ensure that the king and queen will not be able to make their way to her. Besides, they cannot abandon their kingdom. When we were first married, I had mentioned plenty of times how much the princess would love my beautiful kingdom, and I had always been brushed off by Frederic and Arianna. Oh, how I_ _**hate** _ _being brushed off! They will see that I took the necessary steps to_ _**protect** _ _their daughter – that it was_ _**necessary** _ _to take her away for a while – at least until Fitzherbert is out of the picture._

_Yes. Everything will go smoothly, and she will be yours, and you will be happy together._

Really, Rapunzel is _lucky_ – lucky to have a husband who cares about her so. A husband who cares about her enough to _save_ her from the plague of a man who has nothing to offer her! It is clear that Rapunzel is so blinded by teenage lust and wanting, that she does not realize that her ex-flame is not capable of giving her the things that _he_ is capable of giving her. What could Eugene Fitzherbert _possibly_ have that Charles does not? The man is a reformed _thief,_ for crying out loud! He'd grown up in an orphanage, of all places: a bastard, a lowlife, a worthless and unsuitable prospect for a _princess_.

Had the princess really believed that she would be allowed to marry him? Had she really believed that she and Eugene would make a suitable match? And had her parents really _failed_ to remember the arrangement which they'd made with his kingdom when the two of them were only just babies. Or had they simply assumed that it would go away, that he would disappear after eighteen years? Or did the princess have the king and queen completely complacent, walking all over _them_ , too – walking all over them, enough to let her believe that Eugene Fitzherbert belonged with her?

No. She is a princess, and a princess belongs with a prince.

Charles is sickeningly wealthy, respected in his kingdom, and has everything that he could ever want – everything that _she_ could ever want – at his fingertips. So, what does _he_ have that Charles does not? A huge dick?

Okay, maybe Eugene Fitzherbert _does_ have one of those.

But so what if he does! Size isn't everything, and Charles surely knows how to please a woman. He's been told as much _countless_ times, that he's plenty good at such things. Rapunzel will learn how to be happy with him, will learn how to provide him with what he wants – with what any husband _deserves_. He will teach her how to please him, too.

But then, she already knows how to please a man, doesn't she – has already been taught such things by _someone else_.

Charles had been right about one thing: her innocence, her virtue, and her value to her husband… it had been stolen – stolen by a _thief_ , no less. The irony of the situation is almost too much for the irate prince to bear. Not to mention, he'd been right about the fact that Rapunzel is _incredibly_ lucky – lucky that he actually still wants her, after she's so trampily given herself to another man.

And now, Charles is thinking about her moaning Eugene's name, and he's once again taking a very long drink of liquor, quickly refilling the empty glass.

He hadn't _wanted_ things to be this way. For a while, Charles had honestly wanted to make things work in Corona, to find some contentment there. But Rapunzel had made doing so increasingly difficult: as the weeks went on, it had become more and more obvious to the young prince, that Rapunzel was _never_ going to let Eugene go – so he had to find a way to _make_ her. Charles didn't feel particularly good about hurting his wife, but what else could a man in his position do? He surely couldn't spend the rest of his life coming in second to someone else, fighting for his own wife's attention.

No, that simply would not do. Charles _refuses_ to wake up one day to find his wife pregnant, only to realize that she is mothering the child of another man. What with Rapunzel's recent, scandalous behavior, Charles recognizes that the notion is not impossible, and he refuses to be the laughing stock of Corona – the _fool_ who stood by, and allowed his wife to be loved, and ruined, and… and… _fucked_ by another man.

The only _reasonable_ explanation in this unideal circumstance, was to take her from Corona – take her from the _distraction_ which is Eugene Fitzherbert.

He could make her happy. He _would_ make her happy, happier than Eugene once had. She will need some time to adjust – Charles understands that – but his beautiful kingdom will be good to her. There are vast mountains to explore, and plenty of meadows for her to lie in, and plenty of gorgeous scenery for her to paint. With time, she won't miss him anymore, she won't even _think_ about the former thief. In time, she will fall in love with Maddoline, and fall in love with him. Charles will give Rapunzel her own art room, overlooking the gardens, stocking it with every color of paint that she could ever want. She will wear beautiful ball gowns, and she will make plenty of new friends at the endless parties which they will throw in his home – _their_ home.

He will forgive her for destroying her virtue, and they will make amends, and he will explain that his recent, aggressive behavior was only a result of _loving_ her so much – a result of trying to _protect_ _her_ from a man who is no good for her!

Yes. She will forgive him for his brashness, and he will forgive her for acting like a cheap whore, and everything will be wonderful. They will finally be able to explore the possibilities of their fledging relationship, will finally be able to get to _know_ one another, without her undeniable desire for another man getting in the way. And if she actually _knew_ him, she would surely grow to like him!

Charles has heard the countless whispers from the castle maids, has heard about the person that Princess Rapunzel was before he'd arrived in Corona – before she was arranged in marriage to him. Rapunzel was bright, and bubbly, and the happiest girl that you've ever seen. Of course she's changed, the shock of her sudden marriage to him causing her attitude to shift. That is understandable. But when they are finally in Maddoline, she will be able to be that girl again!

He will prove to her that he is capable of being a kind husband, capable of treating her well. He will prove to her that his temper was not quite as short as he'd led her to believe, and they would be happy. When Fitzherbert is finally nothing but a distant memory, a simple figment of her imagination, a _mistake_ of her youth… she will be that happy girl again. It might take a bit of time for her to come around, but she will.

Yes. The princess would finally be happy, and he would make her that way.

**AN: Whew. That was a** _**lot** _ **. The featured song for this chapter is Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Lorde. If I could choose a song which would play in the background of a visual trailer for this story, it would probably be this song.**

**Everybody Wants to Rule the World heavily inspired this chapter, and how I pictured the plot of the chapter going down: for the majority of the song, I pictured images in black and white: images of Charles arriving unexpectedly, images of Rapunzel and Eugene in their first year together – chasing one another through the gardens, lying on their backs in the meadow, the balls in which they attended together. Just before the beat finally drops, I pictured Eugene sprinting down the dock, these memories with Rapunzel flashing before his eyes. When the beat** _**does** _ **drop, I pictured Eugene barreling headfirst into the water. For the rest of the song, the climax of the story is retold in the mind's eye of Eugene: his fistfights with Charles, nights spent with Rapunzel – their last night spent together.**

**Everything that he has lost, and everything that he will lose now. When the song ends, the ship is pulling away from the docks, and Eugene is there, helplessly treading in the water.**

**Yes, I create mini movies in my head of each chapter, music included. Don't judge. It's an important part of my writing process. Thank you for reading, and I hope to see you for Chapter 21.**


	22. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi, guys! I'm so glad to be back with you. Today's featured song is titled, She Is the Sunlight by Trading Yesterday. I've been patiently waiting for the recent twist in the plot to include this as a featured song. I found it all the way back when I first began writing this story in October! It feels like one of those songs that just belong in a collection of 'Honorary New Dream Songs.' (Yes, I have a playlist of those. It's almost as if I've spent years compiling songs for them or something). I love the song, though it's that special kind of heartbreaking which makes it being linked to New Dream in the mind's eye, all the harder to listen to, yet all the more beautiful.
> 
> I feel horrible that it's taken so long to get this chapter up, and I'm so sorry. I've been thinking of you guys, but I started school and work again this past week after a two month break, and life got all hectic once more with big girl responsibilities galore. I hope that you'll understand if updates aren't as frequent as they were, but I'll try my honest-to-goodness best to remain consistent.
> 
> In other news, I've recently posted a Rated M one-shot! It's titled 'The Reason Is You: A Moongene AU.' Consider checking it out if you have the time! I told myself that I was only going to focus on this story right now. But then, I got such a nagging feeling to write that one-shot, so I did… in one day – it was nagging me that much. In addition, I started a collection of poetry directly connected to New Dream and to this story. It's titled 'Pretty New Dream Prose.' My poetry is my pride and joy, so consider checking that out, as well! This chapter was pretty heavily inspired by one of the poems over there. The other projects that I've been working on caused this chapter to take a little longer than anticipated, so again, I'm sorry about that. Regardless, if you do happen to check out my other works, I appreciate you in advance!
> 
> But enough rambling from me… let's do this thing.

**AN: Hi, guys! I'm so glad to be back with you. Today's featured song is titled, She Is the Sunlight by Trading Yesterday. I've been patiently waiting for the recent twist in the plot to include this as a featured song. I found it all the way back when I first began writing this story in October! It feels like one of those songs that just belong in a collection of** _**'Honorary New Dream Songs.'** _ **(Yes, I have a playlist of those. It's almost as if I've spent** _**years** _ **compiling songs for them or something). I love the song, though it's that special kind of heartbreaking which makes it being linked to New Dream in the mind's eye, all the harder to listen to, yet all the more beautiful.**

**I feel horrible that it's taken so long to get this chapter up, and I'm so sorry. I've been thinking of you guys, but I started school and work again this past week after a two month break, and life got all hectic once more with big girl responsibilities galore. I hope that you'll understand if updates aren't as frequent as they were, but I'll try my honest-to-goodness best to remain consistent.**

**In other news, I've recently posted a Rated M one-shot! It's titled 'The Reason Is You: A Moongene AU.' Consider checking it out if you have the time! I told myself that I was only going to focus on this story right now. But then, I got such a nagging feeling to write that one-shot, so I did… in one day – it was nagging me** _**that** _ **much. In addition, I started a collection of poetry directly connected to New Dream and to this story. It's titled 'Pretty New Dream Prose.' My poetry is my pride and joy, so consider checking that out, as well! This chapter was pretty heavily inspired by one of the poems over there. The other projects that I've been working on caused this chapter to take a little longer than anticipated, so again, I'm sorry about that. Regardless, if you** _**do** _ **happen to check out my other works, I appreciate you in advance!**

**But enough rambling from me… let's do this thing.**

**Chapter 21: The Girl Who Always Went Missing**

Eugene throws up in the bushes just outside the castle gates as he's escorted to the prison.

His wobbly legs force Eugene to tilt dangerously forward, clothes dripping, his body shivering harshly with the remnants of the bitter water from the harbor. His head is pounding, but his heart has seemed to slow enough to think a little clearer (though, not much), now devoid of the pumping adrenaline which had shoved him headfirst into the harbor in the first place. The sun has finally set, and with it, _she_ is gone. A dark cloak has blanketed Corona, as if the cobblestones streets themselves have realized that their princess is no longer there.

She brings sunlight to this kingdom. She is the sunlight in _his_ life, and there is no warmth beaming against Eugene's face anymore – and this lack of warmth isn't because the literal sun itself has set. No, this newfound, dark depression which has blanketed not only the kingdom, but Eugene, has everything to do with her. Or, more so, this abrupt _lack_ of her.

And what in the _hell_ is he going to do without his Sunshine? His entire world revolves around her! What is he _supposed_ to do – be a normal, not-lovesick person? This notion feels entirely impossible. After loving Rapunzel as deeply as Eugene has, for as long as he has, it's painfully unfeasible to simply wake up one day and stop feeling all-consumed by her. Especially now, when she's been ripped away from him, Charles sending a completely clear message tonight from that ship.

Eugene can't do that – he can't help but be consumed by her, can't help himself from being frozen in time there in the water, watching her go involuntarily. He just can't. It would've hurt to watch her go, regardless. It would've hurt like hell, even if it had been her choice. But to know that she hadn't _wanted_ to go – to know that her freedom had been ripped from her fingers once more – has been shredding Eugene into tiny, little guilt-shaped pieces, spitting him out over and over again; spitting him out from the moment that he'd climbed from the water.

Well, from the moment that he'd been all but _dragged_ out of the water.

And _that's_ why he's throwing up in the bushes now: because the thought of her sailing away with _him_ , is consuming him so entirely, that Eugene's body is actually rejecting the idea that she could somehow be gone. Disappeared into thin air, running through his hands like water – and he only has himself to blame for it. He only has himself to blame, because he _never_ should've left her alone tonight, not even for a moment. Just as Charles had recently warned him, Eugene hadn't realized the catastrophic consequence of his missteps until they were staring him straight in the face.

And now, Eugene finally understands how Rapunzel must've felt as she'd stood there at the shore on the night of their first lantern festival together, when she'd been fully convinced that he'd abandoned her for the crown. Now, Eugene finally understands how helpless she must've felt, watching him get stabbed that day in the tower. And in spite of all of the missteps which Eugene has made in his life, Rapunzel has always blindly trusted him to be there, has always trusted him to protect her.

But after tonight, she's going to think that he's abandoned her with _him_. Rapunzel may understand that he hadn't abandoned her _intentionally_. Nonetheless, Eugene's selfishness over his princess had caused him to go blind to what was really going on – just as Charles had promised – which is enough to make Eugene feel sicker than a dog.

"Don't get any ideas, pretty boy."

Eugene feels a rough hand on his wet collar, attempting to yank him upwards. He plants himself in place the best that he can, not quite finished spitting out the long-lasting remnants of anxiety-induced bile, which are loitering on his tongue and against the soft flesh of his cheeks.

"Oh, no, why would I? I'm just a little busy _hurling my guts up_ here!" Eugene croaks over his shoulder sarcastically, his stomach churning again hazardously, but apparently emptied enough to be satisfied.

For now.

It's gross. His body's reaction to all of this, is gross. He's not reacting like the strong, capable hero that she needs him to be right now. But he can't help it. Because her little body being yanked away from the ship's railing by Charles, his hand placed over her mouth, is stuck to the edges of Eugene's consciousness like a sticky nightmare which he can't hope to rid himself of. It's as though the horrific image has nestled itself deep inside of his mind, lining the pink tissue of his brain, creating a lifelong home there.

This image has burrowed itself there in his mind, because it isn't a nightmare at all – it's real. It's fucking _real_. And what had he done? He'd treaded water there and _watched_. Like a helpless idiot, he'd watched her drift away, his heart dropping to his stomach, joining the bile which had threatened to release itself right there in the harbor.

She'd desperately tried to sling her leg over the ship's railing, had tried to get to him there in the water. She'd known that he was there, watching her go, had seen that he would _always_ come for her. But that knowledge hadn't been enough. Knowing that he would always come for her, isn't nearly the same as actually _saving_ her. And then, her hips were yanked back, and she was snug against her husband's chest, and there was absolutely nothing that Eugene could do to get her away from him.

Eugene could hide her away in his bedroom in the middle of the night. Yeah, he was good at that. He could wallow in self-pity, could kiss her until she forgot her own name, could close the door behind her and pretend that the rest of the fucked up world didn't exist for a few hours. He could nuzzle her nose and chase away the darkest of nightmares, he could make her giggle through the salty tears, and he could make her weak in the knees with one sideways glance in her general direction. For fuck's sake, he could make love to her constantly, desperately willing away the pain of the past several months, but he couldn't save her this _one time?_ In her greatest moment of need, he'd failed to be there for her? _Again?_

In Eugene's defense, the _first time_ that he hadn't been there when she was in her greatest moment of need, was because he'd been knocked unconscious by the Stabbington's, and subsequently thrown into prison. If _that_ shitshow had never happened, Eugene would've been perfectly content with giving up the crown and disappearing with Rapunzel, taking her wherever she wanted to go – though, Eugene is well aware that fate probably would've had other plans for them, regardless.

The universe had to truly level its karma with Eugene, at some point. After all, he'd gotten off a _little_ too easy when he'd been brought back to life by a magical teardrop, and had been unrightfully rewarded for his extensive criminal escapades with a cushy castle to live in and a gorgeous princess to love.

Now is that point, it seems.

But even then, even as Eugene had been walking his sorry ass to the gallows, he'd found a way to get to her! Together, they'd defeated someone like Gothel that day. Together, in this very castle, they had defeated _eighteen years_ of mental manipulation. And yet, they couldn't handle someone like _Charles?_ A stuffy, pompously arrogant, overtly spoiled prince? A tantrum-throwing twenty-one year old, who had clearly never been told _'No'_ even once in his lifetime? _He_ would be the one to do them in?

Then again, if Eugene wasn't currently in a mental fistfight with his throbbing ego, he would probably be able to admit to himself that he never should've underestimated the wildly jealous, purely _psychotic_ prince. On this horrific night, the parallels of the past and of the present have become painfully clear: Charles has a villainous streak worthy of rivalling Gothel herself. All Charles would need to do now, is shove a dagger into Eugene's side.

Taking her would probably still hurt more – though, Eugene had learned, getting stabbed hurts like a _bitch_.

Eugene feels himself being yanked upright at the armpits, forcing him to stagger forward, trying his best to not trip over his own two feet. Catching several of the noisy snickers behind him, Eugene feels the cool metal of a sharp sword being pressed tantalizingly into the molded, sopping leather of his vest, and he tries very hard to keep his gaze forward-facing. He marches stiffly through the castle gates, and realizes that the grounds have been reduced to nothing more than an eerily silent ghost town. Frankly, Eugene is too afraid to ask why that is, and is still swimming in too much shock to make some snarky comment about it.

If this were another sticky situation in which he was being dragged to a prison cell, Eugene undoubtedly _would_ be making snarky comments all the way down, and lots of them. But this is about Rapunzel. And _anything_ concerning Rapunzel's safety must be taken so seriously by Eugene that his head could very well explode. This isn't the time for bravado, or snarky quips, or sarcasm. This is the time for silently figuring out what the hell he's going to do to get himself – and her – out of this mess.

The small group of strange, stoic men dressed in black armor were waiting for him when Eugene had dragged himself up the dock ladder, trembling, pissed off, and every kind of mentally fucked that a man could possibly be. Losing her is going to fuck him up _good_ – as if he hadn't already been fucked up enough by having to watch her marry another man – and Eugene knows it.

_But she's not_ _**lost** _ _, not forever! You'll figure a way out of this for her. You'll get to her, somehow. You_ _**have** _ _to._

The darkly-clothed men – there's three of them – point their swords in the direction of a darkly lit prison cell when the party of four arrives at the prison building, and Eugene is both relieved and mortified to be greeted by a painfully familiar voice.

"Eugene?" Arianna rushes to the cell bars, her delicate fingers clinging around the cold metal in anxious anticipation. "Eugene, sweetheart! What's happening?"

Pressing her worried face through the bars, all frazzled and wide-eyed, Eugene almost can't stand how much Arianna looks like Rapunzel. Usually, he would be pleasantly awestruck by their uncanny resemblance, having never quite gotten over it from the first time that he'd seen them together on the balcony. He'd been shocked that day at how unbelievably similar the two women really were – the day in which mother and daughter had finally been reunited after eighteen horribly long years apart.

Now, it were as though a ghost were staring at him through the bars, haunting Eugene with those green eyes – eyes which are so heartbreakingly similar to _hers_.

Their princess – their precious, sweet Rapunzel, who would give the shirt off her back to anyone who needed it, the girl who could rival the warmth of the sun itself, the girl who could make the most crotchety old man bite his tongue and laugh in spite of himself. Their princess, who none of them would ever be the same without.

Unlike Eugene, the king and queen are not new to any of this. Two decades ago, they had gone through their own personal hell of losing their baby once already, and the looks on their faces only set in stone the horrible familiarity of the whole thing. They know the routine anxiousness, the constant pacing, the praying to a God who they aren't sure if they can trust anymore – because how could their daughter be taken from them like this? How could she be taken from them _again?_ How couldn't they have seen the signs? What could they have done to be more cautious, to make their home a safer place, _to protect her?_

Despite their experience with losing her, their anxiousness is not quenched, the eerie familiarity of the situation not offering any comfort whatsoever. Once again, the King and Queen of Corona have lost something which cannot possibly be replaced. When Rapunzel was taken two decades ago, in her absence, Frederic and Arianna had never truly recovered – not mentally, not emotionally, and certainly not in their hearts. In the last year, they had battled deep-rooted trauma and countless nightmares of their own, even though she'd been safely back in the walls of the castle. But once again, they have lost the only thing which they would die to protect. Once again, they have failed her.

Or so they've convinced themselves during the time in which the king and queen have spent pacing the prison cell, waiting for Eugene to inevitably arrive.

In a way, they'd hoped that he wouldn't come at all. Arianna had prayed and prayed that Eugene wouldn't end up down here with them. She'd hoped that the strange men who had infiltrated the castle grounds, wouldn't have figured out his location, too. Because if he's here, it means that _she_ is not. And if she is not here, she is not safe.

One of the darkly-dressed men, the one who appears to be the leader of the three, fumbles with a loud set of jingling keys. The man unlocks the cell door, shoving Eugene roughly inside before slamming the bars behind him and sauntering wordlessly down the hallway, their shoes clicking on the stone and into the haunting dark of night. Only one of the men remain in the prison building, assumedly keeping watch of the door.

Arianna creeps toward him cautiously as Eugene catches his balance, appearing as though she can't quite trust herself to get close to him – because he reminds the queen so much of _her_ , just as Arianna reminds Eugene of her. He reminds the queen that she isn't here with them.

"Is she…"

Eugene only shakes his head pathetically, the tears immediately welling in his eyes as the reality of their situation becomes palpable, and Arianna opens her arms to him before there's enough time to try to deny them. His heavy, guilt-filled head falls to the queen's petite shoulder – mostly because Eugene can't find the strength to deny the comfort in this vulnerable moment, even if he wanted to. Though he desires the warm comfort, Eugene is definitively certain that he doesn't deserve it.

Not anymore.

Though Arianna and Frederic feel as though they have failed their daughter once more, Eugene feels an even heavier weight settling upon his chest. Because not only has he failed Rapunzel, but he has failed her parents, too. And being in Arianna's arms like this, only reminds Eugene of his costly mistake.

The king and queen have their flaws, sure. They have their flaws, just like anyone else. Being royalty does not save you from that. But they love their daughter endlessly, and they had learned to love him, too. Eugene knows that they do. They'd proved it, in the way that they'd taken him into their home, in the way that they'd given him the family which he'd never had as a child. They'd trusted him to love and to be left alone with their daughter – even though he was much older, a treasonous criminal, and generally unworthy of their trust in the beginning. In spite of all of that, the king and queen had opened their arms to him, and had wrapped them around him as though Eugene were their own long-lost son.

And what has he given them in return? He's made promises that he couldn't keep, and he's failed the only two people who have ever resembled parental figures in his life. He's failed to keep the very important promise which he'd pledged to the king and queen a long time ago: back when his intentions with Rapunzel weren't quite so clear, as they are today.

' _You'll look out for her? You will keep her out of trouble, and your relationship will remain nothing but pure-intentioned, and admirable, and safe for her?'_

' _I've died for her once. I'll do it again if I have to.'_ That's what he'd said in a mahogany-stained office, and he'd meant it – for the first time in his checkered life, Eugene was telling the complete, honest truth. _'I promise to always protect her.'_

That's what he'd said to them: _'I promise.'_ That's what he'd said, when the king and queen had questioned his motives on the day that Eugene and Rapunzel had first arrived at the palace. Frederic and Arianna had verbally questioned his motives, once. _Only_ once. After that slightly awkward, yet very necessary conversation, Eugene's intentions with Rapunzel were never brought up again – mostly because Eugene had _proved_ that he'd meant what he'd said. His motives didn't need to be discussed any further, because his intentions with the young, freshly-arrived princess could be visibly _seen_ : it could be seen in the way that he looked at her like she was pure sunlight, in the way that he brushed her choppy hair behind her ear with gentle fingers, in the way that his mouth quirked to the side whenever she was very, very excited about something (which was quite often, they all had learned). Eugene's intentions with the princess did not need further discussion in the eyes of the king and queen, because his promise had been so clear, so genuine.

So _intended to be kept._

And he's broken it. He's sent that promise straight to hell to burn, right along with every other promise that he's ever made to Rapunzel to keep her safe. He'd unknowingly lied to her sweet face when he'd promised that he would always protect her. Apparently, today hadn't fallen under _always_.

And now, she's going to think that he can't be trusted. She's going to think that he didn't mean everything that he's ever said to her. She's going to feel betrayed, because no one had saved her from Charles – _he_ hadn't saved her. And it's all his fault. It's all his fault, because _he_ hadn't paid close enough attention, because _he_ hadn't taken Charles's warnings seriously enough. Because _he_ had told her to stay in her old bedroom for the night, where Charles had obviously found her attempting to hide from him.

He'd promised. Eugene had promised her that everything would be okay, that they would find a way out of (or, more likely, a way _around_ ) her marriage to Charles. He'd promised her that he would learn from his mistakes. He'd promised her that he was a different person, a better person – a less _selfish_ person. He'd promised her that he would marry her one day. He'd promised her that he would give her little, green-eyed babies to run around their feet, had promised her that he would give her a beautiful, happy life. He'd promised her that he would always love her, had promised her that he would always offer all of himself to her, day after day for the rest of their lives.

Promises were completely sacred to Rapunzel, and Eugene had known that about her since the day he'd first met her. Promises were made to be kept, not broken. Never broken. He'd taught her a lot of things, but she'd taught him that.

Eugene had promised her a lot of things that he hadn't been able to keep. And today, he'd broken the most important promise of them all:

' _I will always protect you. I will always love you, and I promise that I will_ _ **always**_ _protect you.'_

That's what he'd promised her. That's what he'd murmured to her, holding her close as she'd sobbed and sobbed into his chest in the middle of so many countless, sleepless nights, caught in the rip-current of another horrifying flashback of Gothel and that traumatic last day in the tower. She would cry against him, enveloped in another heart-stopping nightmare about Eugene's cold, dead body lying there in her arms on the tower floor. He had whispered such promises over and over again into her damp, moon-illuminated hair, had whispered promises to always keep her safe, desperate to console her – promises that he'd had every intention of keeping, at the time.

At the time: before Charles, before the marriage, and before this horrible, _horrible_ mess had inevitably come crashing down around them – all because _he_ hadn't been strong enough to keep it from doing so.

"I _tried!_ I tried, I tried… I ran, and I got there, but she was already – _ugh!_ " Eugene sniffles loudly, reaching up to wipe his tears.

He feels completely embarrassed for reacting this way – for reacting so childishly – especially in front of the king. But Eugene also doesn't feel as though he could keep the hopeless, bitter tears from falling against his cheeks if he wanted to.

"And… and she was too far! And I – I wasn't enough, I didn't… I should've… but now _she's gone!_ And I _tried_ , and I'm so, so _sorry_ …"

"Shh… shh. I know you did, honey. I know you did. Just breathe. Take a breath for me, okay?"

Eugene releases an entirely pathetic sob into the soft, satin material of her dress, feeling Arianna's hand in his hair, murmuring to him quietly. And suddenly, Eugene just can't accept the queen's wonderful, motherly comfort – comfort which he fully understands that he does not deserve. He can't accept this comfort, because Arianna's slender fingers brushing through his hair lovingly, feel a little too similar to her daughter's fingers, and those green, worried eyes are a little too familiar, and the queen's soft, consoling voice sounds a little too much like hers.

_No! I need to cut it out, I can't do this right now. I can't fall apart! If I fall apart now, I'll never be strong enough to get to her, and I_ _**need** _ _to get her back. Because if I don't get her back, I'm going to lose it. I'm going to lose it, and I'll become a horrible,_ _**terrible** _ _person again. Because without her, I'm nothing. I can't do this without her, I can't go on –_

Eugene pulls away from Arianna abruptly, angrily swiping at his tears with the back of his hand, as if attempting to pretend that they'd never been there dampening his cheeks at all.

"Fuck!"

Eugene slams the palm of his shaking hand against the stone wall, a sharp pain stinging through it, shooting its way up and into his bicep – though, no pain can compare to the pain of losing her. His face falls into his hands, and Arianna is immediately hovering over him as Eugene wobbles in place, hunched over, trying to force the tears back behind his eyelids. He clamps a hand around his stinging wrist, willing the pain to subside.

Willing himself to _get it together._

" _FUCK!_ "

"Eugene, dear, it's _okay_." Arianna pleads with him, clear concern etched across her softened face. "We're going to figure this out, we're going to get her back! We will move heaven and earth to get to her, you know this! But we _need_ to keep our heads, or we'll never be able to –"

The guilt-ridden young man pulls himself from his hunched position, anger burning in Eugene's eyes – anger which Arianna understands isn't truly directed at her.

"No! No, it's _not_ okay! This is all my fucking fault! She's _gone_ , and it's my fault! I should've been with her. I should've been there, and I should've…" Eugene stutters in his frustration, the anxiety rising dangerously in his chest, jumbling his words. "I-I never should've let her be on her own, and I never should've pushed Charles so hard. I _never_ should've done this, I should've left –"

"This isn't your fault, honey." The queen interrupts him sternly, desperate to make Eugene understand that he's done all that he could, at least for now. "This isn't really anyone's fault but his, but it's _especially_ not yours. If anything, Fred and I…"

Arianna shoots a pleading look in the direction of her quiet husband, who has been sitting wordlessly in the corner of the cell since Eugene's arrival, a horribly furious look on his weathered face.

"We should've protected her better from this man. That isn't your fault. We are her parents, and it was our job to protect her from this. So no, Eugene, it is not _your fault_ that _he_ took her from us."

Eugene wants to believe the queen. He wants to thank her for her consoling words, and move on. Really, he does. But _of course_ all of this is his fault. How couldn't it be? Because if Eugene had been strong enough to walk away from her when Charles had warned him to do so, if he would've tried just a little harder at convincing Rapunzel that having an affair was a dangerous idea with a high potential of completely blowing up in their faces like this, Charles never would've felt the need to take her.

So, yes, it's _completely_ his fault that Charles has _kidnapped her._

"Oh, God… I think I'm gonna be sick again."

Eugene leans a clammy palm against the cold, stone wall, dry heaving with his head hanging between his legs – a single, haunting phrase cycling through his mind on a sickening repeat:

_She's gone. She's gone, she's gone, she's_ _**gone!** _

Arianna reaches forward, her face racked with her own guilt and nervous energy, rubbing Eugene's back soothingly as he tries to force the fresh wave of putrid bile back down his throat.

"If you throw up in this tiny cell, I will kill you."

A harsh voice echoes from the darkest corner of the prison cell, and Eugene hears some shuffling, scoffing visibly as Cassandra steps into the dusky light filtering in from the small cell window. Eugene turns fully around to face her, shrugging Arianna's hand away in his own anxiety-ridden movement.

_Great. As if this nightmare couldn't get any worse, I have to be trapped in a prison cell with the Lady of Darkness herself?_

" _You're_ gonna kill me, Cass?" Eugene steps toward the clearly irate lady-in-waiting, walking toward her until they're nose-to-nose. "You and what _army?_ "

"You think I need an army, Fitzherbert? I could kill you with my bare hands in my _sleep_."

Frederic stands from his own dark corner, speaking for the first time since Eugene's arrival – placing a steady hand to Eugene's chest, forcing him to take a step back and away from Cassandra, who scoffs herself – fully understanding the history of their tumultuous relationship.

"Children, _please_. Come now. Being at one another's throats is not going to get us out of here, and it's definitely not going to bring my daughter home safely." The visibly shaken, visibly _angry_ father shakes his head thoughtfully, running an anxious hand through his greying beard. "I always had a feeling that something was off about that boy. I just –"

"Something off? You think there's just something _off_ about him?" Eugene cries, abruptly sending the king's train of thought right off the tracks, rapidly shifting his frustration from one person to the next. "No, there's something off about Shorty, or maybe even Old Lady Crowley! But there is not just something _off_ about Charles. The guy is a complete _psychopath_ who has your daughter right now, and we need to get her back!"

Frederic sighs heavily, narrowing his eyes in a determined fashion. The king leans forward, taking Eugene by the shoulders and shaking the younger man slightly, as if begging him to get it together – to get it together _for her._ The king understands that the hysterical young man before him loves his daughter just as much as he does, and something about this makes him even angrier. It makes Frederic angrier, because Charles has taken too much from too many people tonight.

"I'll kill him myself. _We_ will kill him for doing this to her. You can mark my words, Eugene. But if we remain angry with one another, we aren't going to get _anywhere_."

Eugene knows full well that Frederic is right, but he _already_ feels like he isn't going anywhere. He's hit an emotional roadblock, a mental dead-end, and his heart isn't capable of moving forward. He's going to stay right here, involuntarily frozen in time, incapable of processing this heart-shattering loss. And perhaps the steady hands of the king, and the consoling eyes of the queen, won't be enough to keep him from completely losing it tonight.

* * *

When Eugene was eight years old, he broke the glass of a ground-level orphanage building window.

He'd fully intended to throw the ball to Lance – had fully intended for the hard, round ball to melt directly into the palm of his best friend's hand. Really, he had. But the shattering sound had brought an immediate cringe upon Eugene's young, mischievous face. He'd known right then, standing there in shock, staring at the shattered glass, that he was going to be in _big_ trouble – mostly because Lance had told him so. Lance, who had failed to catch the ball in the first place.

Eugene had gotten a good voice-raising, finger-wagging, knuckle-rapping whooping for that one.

When Eugene was fifteen, he met a girl with striking violet eyes, a heinous attitude, and an 'I get what I want' complex, instilled by an overprotective father who spoiled her silly. And Eugene, in a twisted way, had loved her. Granted, the way in which he'd loved her had been completely fucked up – their love had ridden the borderline of unbearably _toxic_ , more often than not. More often than not, he'd put up with her, because putting up with her meant remaining connecting to her father, and remaining connected to her father meant jobs, and jobs meant money. But he _had_ cared for her, at one time – although, that time was very, _very_ long ago.

Nonetheless, time – which includes the mistakes of the past, which Eugene would do anything to escape from – cannot be completely ignored or forgotten, no matter how much of it has passed.

She'd hurt him, the girl with the violet eyes, but he'd hurt her, too. Granted, she'd treated him like shit, had made him feel like he was never really good enough for her. Her father certainly didn't think he was, and he'd never let Eugene forget it. But Eugene had pushed her over the edge with his own deceitful ways more times than he's proud to admit, had egged her into her malicious attitude and inability to trust men like him. He'd left her standing there in a white dress, which is just about the worst thing that you can do to a young woman.

Granted, it had all turned out for the best – at least, in Eugene's eyes. If he would've gone through with marrying her, his life would've been a complete disaster – _he_ would still be a complete disaster. But this sudden betrayal after all that they'd been through together, had _broken_ her – much more than she would ever be willing to admit out loud. It had broken her enough for her to now want to harm the only thing that's ever truly mattered to him.

When Eugene was twenty-five, he had the most perfect girl in the palm of his very hand.

Or, more accurately, she'd had him in the palm of _her_ hand. And maybe he wasn't the one to break her himself, as he'd taken the liberty of so distinctly, so deliberately breaking the girl with the violet eyes – breaking her for all the times that she'd broken him. No, this girl was different. She was sunlight in human form, she was the first good thing that really _belonged_ to him. She was the first thing that was good enough to make him want to be good, too.

And maybe Eugene wasn't the driving force as to why this perfect girl has changed, retreating to an ugly place of eighteen-year-insecurity, and speculation, and gloomy moods which are just so utterly _unlike_ her. Maybe it isn't directly his fault that she was forced to be married to someone else, maybe it isn't his fault that she hasn't been herself these days. But he's _lost_ her, has let her run through his hands like water, and that _is_ his fault. And somehow, losing her like that – to have her be _taken_ _from_ _him_ – feels a whole lot worse than breaking her.

Anyone can break something which they love. In long-term relationships, people break one another's hearts – it's inevitable. They mold and mend one another, over and over again. Anyone can break the heart of a person in which they love, and anyone can put it back together again, if they're willing to change. But not everyone is stupid enough to allow the best thing that's ever happened to them, slip right between their fingertips.

So, why is it that Eugene Fitzherbert has a special knack for breaking everything that he touches?

Because he takes things for granted. And then, they are taken _from_ him. He gets comfortable, and he allows himself to believe in dreams which cannot be fulfilled, because he does not deserve any resemblance of good karma from the universe. The universe is currently giving him an incredibly impressive middle finger for his lifetime of bad, selfish decisions.

And why does all of this have to feel so eerily _familiar?_ Pacing a prison cell, paralyzing trepidation coursing through him, because he knows – he just _knows_ – something very bad is going to happen. Something bad is going to happen to her, and he is powerless to save her. And if he would've just been a little stronger, if he would've put his own desires aside for _five minutes_ , she would still be in this castle, sound asleep in her own bed.

But no – because he's incredibly stupid and even more selfish, he'd allowed her to be stolen from her bed, shoved onto a ship, and taken away.

Eugene had not been ignorant to the raincloud of blunt whispers which had plagued his initial arrival in the palace all those months ago. Sure, the maids chittered about how handsome he was, and he'd taken those whispers in stride. There were others who, like the king and queen, had graciously believed in his Rapunzel-induced road to redemption.

But further, there were other whispers – harsh whispers, and lots of them. Whispers about how someone like him could never deserve the princess. Whispers about how he couldn't have possibly changed in the matter of only a few days. Because he was a thief, and a liar, and could not be trusted, despite his lengthy time in the castle, during which he'd been on his best behavior.

Aside from frequently letting the princess sneak into his bed at night, and sneaking her out of balls to kiss her in the gardens. But that's beside the point.

Regardless of Eugene's merited behavior and his pledge to change in that first year of living in the castle, there were still those in the kingdom who strongly believed that he could not be trusted to protect the princess beyond the very special circumstance of their crown-stealing, lantern-watching, falling-head-over-heels-in-love adventure together. There were those who firmly believed that there was no princess, no woman, and no miraculous, life-altering event, which could force him to _truly_ change. In the eyes of some, Eugene would always be nothing more than a misguided, orphaned thief.

He'd tried to protect her from the whispers, had tried to shield her ears which were so new to the world – because these whispers had made her so unbearably angry when she'd ultimately caught wind of them. She would always beg him to believe that they weren't true, that those people didn't know him like she did, so they couldn't _possibly_ see what a changed man he truly was.

But, just as predicted by those harsh whispers and strict non-believers, he has failed to do right by her, has failed to protect her. Every one of those harsh whispers had been harshly correct: Eugene has failed to keep the princess safe, as he'd once promised that he always would.

He's everything they said he would be.

And Eugene will be haunted by that. In the last few months, he's felt as though _he's_ been the one doing all of the haunting, pathetically dragging himself around the castle with no real light at the end of the tunnel, because Rapunzel had unwantedly pledged the rest of her life to someone who isn't him. But no, Eugene will now shift from hauntee to _haunted_ – haunted by the memory of her until she's nestled safely back in his arms. Because the sound of her sweet laughter has dug its way a little too deep into his ears, the feeling of her skin has been engraved into his palms, and the delicate features of her face have been burned behind his eyelids – so much so, that _not_ being haunted by her now, is completely out of question.

Without her, there is simply no joy to be had, _no reason to be good._ No reason to prove those suspicious council members and non-believers wrong. Without her, there's no reason for any of it.

Over the course of more than a year now, Eugene and Rapunzel have slipped into an intimacy which is so comfortable, and so strong – an intimacy which cannot be recovered from – especially after everything in which they've been through together. The two of them have formed an emotional bond which cannot be broken; this bond cannot be broken by the sands of time, or even by the distance put between them now – this horrid distance, created by someone who does not deserve her, someone who has taken the liberty of taking her away from her kingdom once more.

No, Eugene can still feel her here, even now. He can sense her fear and her anxiety from deep within himself, even in this dark, dank prison cell. He'll always be so _painfully_ in tune with her. And this will fuel a bloodlust to come which will be so strong, that Eugene isn't entirely sure if he'll ever be capable of escaping its iron grip.

He will not be satisfied until Charles gets exactly what's coming to him, and he will not be whole again until she is here with him, safe. Well, not _here_ , literally – because here is a cold, claustrophobic prison cell, keeping him from her, and Eugene can just barely stomach the irony of it all.

The golden sun has just begun to peak out from the kingdom skyline, casting the dull shadows of dawn into the small cell. Eugene has his back pressed against the stone wall, anxiously keeping watch of the dark prison hallway as the king and queen try to get some uneasy rest. Eugene has had an utterly bad feeling all night – not only because Rapunzel is gone, but because there hasn't been any sign of a single palace guard since yesterday. Everything feels eerie, and wrong, and off-putting – so much so, that Eugene isn't sure if he'll ever shake the dark, damp feeling.

Eugene brings the heels of his palms to his eyes, rubbing them hard, trying to keep himself awake, and trying to force the horrific image of Rapunzel on that ship out of his brain for even just a second long enough to catch some much-needed relief.

"You better hope like hell that we get her back, Fitzherbert."

Eugene jerks his head toward the feminine voice of the shadowed figure, watching her closely as she rests her elbows on her knees, back pressed straight against the adjacent wall.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean, Cass?"

"I _mean_ … it's a little bit your fault that she's gone, isn't it?" Cassandra pushes herself abruptly from the cell floor, stalking toward him and speaking in hushed tones, trying her best not to wake a sleeping Arianna and Frederic.

"I mean, _you_ let her get married. _You_ let her be left alone with him last night, when clearly, she shouldn't have been."

The lady-in-waiting crouches menacingly close in front of Eugene, steely eyes narrowed in the purest hatred that he has ever seen.

And he's known a lot of people who've hated him for a lot of different reasons.

"You had an _affair_ with her. An affair that pushed Charles far enough to make him _take her_."

Eugene narrows his own eyes now, having battled enough shame within himself throughout the night, to not need a lengthy guilt-trip from Rapunzel's usually icy, always judgmental friend.

"And what about _you,_ Little Miss Judgy? You're her lady-in-waiting, her _best friend!_ " Eugene shoots back, trying his best to keep his voice low in this newfound state of pure irritation, digging his palms into the stone floor as Arianna stirs quietly on her cot. "You know, you're supposed to look after her, too. Doesn't that make this just as much your fault as it is mine?"

Cassandra chuckles darkly – chuckles in the way that it really sounds more like a disbelieving scoff, retreating to her shadowy spot against the wall adjacent from Eugene.

"Oh, no, no, Fitzherbert. Don't you even _try_ to displace the blame here. I don't see Charles getting jealous over me. Jealous enough to _fucking_ kidnap her." Cassandra hisses furiously, staring Eugene down in the dim, morning light. "Like she hasn't gone through enough of _that_ for one lifetime!"

Okay, so Cass raises a valid point. But Eugene isn't going to admit that. Not when his ego is so bruised.

"You think I don't _know_ that? You think I don't know that she doesn't deserve this?" Eugene shakes his head, a fresh wave of mixed-up guilt and anger causing his body to shudder in spite of himself. "You think I don't feel _horrible_ right now?"

"I think you don't know much of anything, because you spend a little too much time thinking with a _certain_ body part, rather than thinking with your _brain_."

Eugene stares back at Cassandra, _hard_ , releasing a heavy sigh which sounds more like a defensive laugh.

"If you have something to say to me, why don't you just say it, Cass? We're both big kids here, and I know you. I know that you must have some climactic insult of the century in that bitter head of yours. So, why don't you just say what you want to say already?"

"Fine. I will." Cassandra bares her front teeth, looking him straight in the eye as she leans toward him. "I think you're an _idiot_."

Eugene scoffs, rolling his eyes in the barely-lit cell.

"Alright, do you have anything _new_ to say to me? Maybe some original material? Because I think I've heard that one from you, oh, I don't know… a _thousand_ times?"

Cass holds up a steady hand, shaking her head defiantly, immediately shutting him up.

"I wasn't _finished_. I think you're an idiot for not either fighting for her harder, or getting the hell away from her! You all but dragged her into this mess. Now she's gone, and we're stuck in this cell, with no way to get to her and no idea where the hell anyone else is! And who _knows_ where he's taking her! We can assume that they're going to Maddoline, but we're sitting in the dark here, literally!"

Cassandra blows hot air from her nose angrily, leaning back against the wall.

"He outplayed us, all because _you_ couldn't keep your hands to yourself, or go."

Eugene really doesn't appreciate the way that Cass seems to insinuate that he'd forced Rapunzel into having an affair with him, which was entirely not the case. If anything, the princess had coerced and seduced _him_ into having the affair with her. Of course, he'd been completely _willing_ , and hadn't really put up much of a fight. But that's beside the point.

Regardless, Eugene's voice drips with defensiveness when he speaks again, trying his best to pick his words carefully.

"You know, Cass, she _is_ a consenting adult. You can't just treat her like a little kid forever. She's not in the tower anymore, or even fresh out of it! She knew exactly what she was doing with me and what the consequences could be for doing it. We both did."

Granted, they hadn't considered that Charles would actually go as far as to _kidnap_ her just to separate them. Honestly, Eugene had considered that Charles might hire a hitman to take him out in a dimly-lit alleyway before physically taking her away from him. Eugene _hadn't_ anticipated that the prince's menacing warning on the night of the party, could result in this nightmare from hell.

Nonetheless, Eugene and Rapunzel had _both_ been well aware that shit would hit the fan if the prince ever did find out about their affair. They had taken that risk, because they'd always been a little too willing to risk it all for one another.

"She _chose_ to stay with me. She chose to sneak around to see me. I didn't choose that for her, nor did I manipulate her into doing anything. You should know by now, that I would _never_ do that." Eugene grits his own teeth, his mood tanking from utterly depressed, to rigid anger. "So don't you dare sit there on your high horse, and act like I forced her into this. Because we both know that's not true."

Picking at her nails casually, Cass shrugs, eyeing him with her perpetually hard, _'I can see right through you'_ gaze.

"Maybe not. But I think you understand how much you mean to her. I think you _knew_ that she wouldn't be able to let go of you on her own. And I think that sad, selfish, little ego of yours was too bruised to just _walk away from her_." Cass pauses, scoffing in disappointment as she continues.

"Even if walking away from her would've kept her _safe_."

Cassandra's final comment strikes Eugene down like a sword to the chest. Her harsh words flash Eugene back to a particular moment in time: the morning after he and Rapunzel had made love for the first time, when Lance had tried his honest best to talk some sense into him. Eugene realizes now, that he probably should've listened.

' _Look, I know it's fucked up, all of it. But I'm willing to let the chips fall where they may. I'll face the consequences when they come…_ _ **if**_ _they come.'_

' _You know, Eugene, you might not care what happens to you if someone catches you, but what about what could happen to her? Charles doesn't exactly seem like the kind of guy that would let this slide if he found out.'_

_**What about what could happen to her?** _

Oh, God. The consequences had come with a cruel vengeance, hadn't they? Just as Eugene had feared that they would, just as Lance had assumed that they would, and just as Charles had verbally _warned_ him that they would.

"You don't know what it's like." Eugene responds quietly, his face softening for only a moment, caught in the painful hindsight of that morning with Lance. "You don't know what it's like to love her."

"Yeah, Eugene, I do. Maybe not in the same way that you do, but I know what it's like to love her, and I know what it's like to want to protect her from people like Charles." Cassandra narrows her eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. "And from people like _you_ , for that matter."

_People like me?! You mean, people who adore her with everything they have, people who love her so much that they would_ _**die** _ _for her, over and over again if they had to?_

That's what he wants to say.

But Eugene only shakes his head, willing himself to bite his tongue, but knowing that he won't be able to. Not right now. Not after this pathetic excuse for a civil conversation between two people who have one, mutual goal: get their princess back. Not after this pathetic excuse for a conversation, which has inevitably turned into Cassandra finding every possible way to make Eugene feel like a piece of shit.

Go figure.

Cass has done enough of that in the last nearly year and a half, but it had all been in good fun. But right now, with tensions running so unbelievably high, Eugene has had just about enough of her deprecating, judgmental, _know-it-all_ attitude. He _could_ choose the route of civility, could brush off Cassandra's harsh comments as an obvious result of their current stress levels – he could, because that's what Rapunzel would want. She wouldn't want the two of them absolutely at each other's necks in her absence.

But taking the long road to civility isn't looking so promising right about now. It doesn't even look plausible, for that matter.

"You know what, Cass?"

"What's that, Eugene?" The dark-haired girl questions, her narrowed eyes all but begging him to defy her soundproof logic – her logic that, yes, this entire situation _is_ completely his fault, just as Eugene has been beating himself up over since the horrific events of the previous evening.

"You can go _fuck_ yourself."

Eugene regrets the harsh words the moment that they leave his mouth. He regrets them, because he knows that Rapunzel would be disappointed in him for them. It's mostly the anxiety and the anger toward _himself_ talking, and Eugene knows that. But being egged on by Cassandra, is the _last_ thing that he needs right now, and he's going to make sure that she knows just how much he doesn't appreciate her perpetual guilt-tripping when it comes to Rapunzel and his inability to walk away from her.

"Oh, _I_ can go fuck myself, huh?"

Cassandra inevitably raises her voice – _loudly_ – and Frederic and Arianna sit up straight in their cots as Cass rises from her place on the ground once more, stalking toward Eugene as he quickly stands himself. The irate lady-in-waiting glares up at Eugene with a menacing look in her eye, clearly overtaken by anxious energy just as much as he is.

"Aren't we _in_ here, because _you_ couldn't handle not getting fucked? Aren't we in this mess, because you just couldn't keep your _dick_ in your pants for more than five _fucking_ minutes?"

Eugene's emotional mercury threatens to blow, boiling over from his veins, and lacing through his words with an anger which Cassandra has never seen from him before. She's pushing him over the edge, and she knows it, but Cassandra is too worried about Rapunzel herself to care about _Eugene's_ feelings – when, in her mind, he's partly to blame – _mostly_ to blame.

"Are you fucking serious? You're making me out to be some horrible person, like I _wanted_ this! Like I wanted this to happen to her!" Eugene's hands become more and more animated as he speaks, his voice rising with each word. "You think all of this happened because I'm just some man whore who can't keep themselves together? No, this happened because I'm in love with her, and our good, old buddy _Charles_ didn't like that very much. And I'm sorry, Cassandra, that I can't just _stop_ loving her!"

Eugene watches as Cassandra's face softens, only slightly. But he's on a dangerous roll now, and there's no turning back from this. Not after the long night that he's had, a night of doing nothing but blame himself for Rapunzel being taken. He can't stop, _especially_ not now: now that Cassandra has confirmed that his self-blame is completely warranted and utterly valid.

"And yeah, I couldn't walk away. I couldn't walk away from her, and I probably never _will_ be strong enough to do that. And maybe that makes me a selfish idiot. But fuck! I'll be an idiot, for her. That's all I've ever been, and I don't need _you_ of all people to remind me!"

Cassandra pushes her eyebrows together, the softness of her face completely fleeting, leaving just as quickly as it had graced her typically-stoic face.

" _Apparently_ you do! And apparently, I should've told you what an idiot you are a little sooner, so that maybe we could've avoided this mess!"

The king and queen, blinking their eyes which are still heavy with the remains of uneasy sleep, look to the two young people with concerned expressions, not appreciating this heated wakeup call after a long night of haunting dreams about losing their precious daughter for the second time to a greedy, selfish person.

"What did I say to the two of you last night?"

"She started it!" Eugene cries, motioning toward Cassandra as she leans against the wall quietly. "She –"

Frederic pinches the bridge of his nose in clear frustration, hanging his head between his legs as his large form sits on the edge of the cot. The king allows his face to fall into his palms momentarily, before lifting his head to shoot Eugene a hard look that only an effective father-figure could deliver.

"What did I _say_ , Eugene?"

Defeated, Eugene sighs heavily, his bitter anger toward Cass shifting to misplaced grumpiness toward the king.

"That fighting with one another isn't going to get us anywhere." Eugene grumbles, once again slumping against the wall, landing hard on the cold floor, but not caring about the soreness in his tailbone. "Or get Rapunzel back."

"That's right." Arianna shuffles over to him, gently rubbing Eugene's shoulder with a tender smile, the sleep still visible in her hooded, emerald eyes. "Why don't you try to get some rest, honey? I think it would do you some good. We're all stressed out right now, and if we aren't sleeping, it's only going to make things worse."

"I can't." Eugene croaks quietly, looking away, not very much in the mood to be mothered – not when pathetic tears are pricking annoyingly at the corners of his eyes. "How am I supposed to sleep right now?" With a shuddered breath, he adds, "She probably hasn't."

"You need to try."

Arianna sighs, crouching down to be at eye-level with him when Eugene refuses to look her in the eye, placing a soft hand to his cheek.

"She would want you to try, Eugene."

Eugene only scoffs, turning his head so that Arianna can't see the hot, angry tears welling up in his eyes – because she's right.

Arianna is completely right. Rapunzel _would_ beg him to get some sleep if she were here. She would chatter on and on about the benefits of a consistent, good night's sleep, and how bodies need proper energy if they want to have a chance at having any real fun at all.

"Don't do that." Eugene narrows his eyes, wiping at his nose which is definitely _not_ dripping with tears. "Don't tell me what she would want. She's not here to speak for herself, and it's my fault that she's not."

Arianna leans forward, taking both of his hands into hers as she remains crouched in front of Eugene, squeezing his fingers encouragingly between hers. It's a shame that Eugene hadn't had a motherly-figure for the majority of his life, because they really are pretty great in times like these.

At least, mothers like Arianna are. He's not really sure what _his_ mother would've been like, though part of Eugene is thankful that he doesn't have anyone to compare the queen to. If Eugene does have children someday, he would only want to have children by someone as gentle and loving as Arianna.

Someone like her daughter.

"Eugene, sweetheart." Arianna squeezes his hands in hers a little tighter, willing him to look at her. "Just listen to me, please. If you don't sleep, and if you can't get over this blaming yourself thing… you are _never_ going to be strong enough to get to her."

The queen lowers her voice, leaning in a bit closer, almost so they're nuzzling noses.

"I know that Cassandra can be harsh. I know that she has her opinions about you. And I know that everything that happened the other day was hard for you. I know that we made you feel unwelcome here. But _I_ don't blame you for any of this, and I don't see you as my son any less than I did before, okay? You know that, don't you?"

Eugene registers her sweet words, knowing that the queen is right. If he doesn't sleep, or at the very least _try_ to get some restless sleep, he's never going to have the energy to rescue her. And if he keeps swimming in this deep pool of pathetic self-pity, he's never going to get to her at all.

He's never going to get anywhere.

So, instead of arguing with her any further, Eugene allows the queen to help him up, guiding him to the cot that she'd been lightly sleeping on only minutes before. She all but tucks him in, giving his shoulder one last, motherly rub, before retreating to the other side of the cell where Frederic has quietly seated himself, whispering with Cassandra – probably trying to concoct some sort of escape plan.

Sleep doesn't come easily, though, just as Eugene had suspected that it wouldn't. His mind is racing too quickly for sleep to seem plausible. Behind his eyelids, her face is burned there – her terrified expression, her arms waving on that ship, screaming, _'Save me! Save me from_ _ **him**_ _!'_

Eugene has spent a lot of his life despising the person that he was – _most_ of his life. For a long time, he'd shielded the sad orphan inside of himself, with a false bravado and an overbearing, cocky confidence. He'd really only started remotely, genuinely liking himself when he'd met Rapunzel. Even then, he'd only begun to like the person that he was, because _she_ had inspired him to dust the heavy layer of cobwebs from Eugene Fitzherbert, had inspired him to hang up the Flynn Rider mask once and for all.

He liked who he was as Eugene for the first time, because _she_ liked who he was when he was Eugene.

But he's been acting a little like Flynn Rider lately, hasn't he? He's been selfish, so _incredibly_ selfish: selfish with her. Selfish enough to keep himself from walking away – even though, as Cassandra has so _elegantly_ pointed out, walking away probably would've kept her a whole lot safer, and probably would've stopped Charles from deeming a _kidnapping_ to be necessary. Nonetheless, even Flynn Rider himself would be disappointed in his recent behavior, and it had been pretty hard to make Flynn Rider judge someone for anything.

Eugene hasn't been the person that Rapunzel expects him to be, the person that she _deserves_. Walking away wouldn't have been what she'd wanted – or even what he'd wanted, for that matter. But walking away would've kept her safe, and she deserves that much from him. He'd promised her so, after all.

And what had he done the night before her wedding? _He'd gotten drunk._ He'd allowed Lance to convince him to go out, try his damn best to get Rapunzel off of his mind, but he hadn't – he _couldn't_. She was all he ever thought about. He'd spent that entire night thinking about nothing _but_ her, until she'd showed up at his door, and she was once again more than a simple daydream. She was right there in front of him: soft skin, and sad, green eyes, and a deep frown that just didn't suit her beautiful, sunshiny face.

And he'd been drunk, because he couldn't handle the thought of giving her away to another man – couldn't handle the thought of her in a white dress that _he_ wouldn't be the one to take off of her. And what had he done? He'd sent her away, because she hadn't deserved to see him that way. She'd really never seen him so wallow-like and pathetic before that night. He'd been embarrassed, his ego taking the reigns as usual, and he'd sent her straight into the arms of her batshit-crazy husband.

And maybe if Eugene had just _fought for her_ that night, or maybe if he'd just _let her go_ like he should've, they wouldn't have to be in this mess. Because if Eugene would've been strong enough to just _let go_ , if he would've given her even the slightest _chance_ of being happy with the prince, Charles never would've felt so inclined to take her from her home.

Now, thanks to his own selfishness, she's probably terrified out of her mind, and cold, and sobbing into her pillow, and Eugene can only blame himself. He can only blame himself, because he is so _selfish_ with her, that he couldn't handle simply walking away for the benefit of her safety.

Eugene, though he'd felt a little silly for it at first, had always believed that he was destined to meet Rapunzel. He'd never bought into the whole _'soulmate'_ thing before – at least, until he met her, and he'd become convinced that his entire life, and _everything_ that had happened to him, had led him straight to her.

But maybe he wasn't destined to be with her at all. Maybe he was always destined to bring her home, to bring her back to her family, to keep her safe _just_ long enough to do that much – destined to keep her safe, but not to be by her side forever. Maybe he was never really meant to be her happily ever after, and maybe he's fucked up his one job of protecting her, just like he seems to fuck up everything else in his life. He'd done it as a thief, and he's doing it now, this vicious cycle of selfishness refusing to let him go.

He's half agony and half hope: cynically praying for a miracle which will likely never come, praying that he hasn't screwed up so horribly, that he will never hold her in his arms again. Praying that the woman he is destined to love, will soon come back to him. Praying that, if she does find her way back home once more, she will somehow trust him to protect her again. Though, Eugene would wholeheartedly understand if Rapunzel weren't capable of giving him a second chance after this.

Because Cass is right: he's selfish, and an idiot, and really never deserved her at all.

Eugene has never felt a guilt quite this heavy before, a guilt quite this consuming. Sure, he'd felt a little guilty the day after leaving Stalyan at the altar, but that had all turned out for the best (Well, had it? Because if he hadn't walked away from her, Stalyan wouldn't feel the need to be roped up in this current mess of theirs. No, getting the chance to meet Rapunzel was well worth it).

Sure, he'd felt guilty for leaving Rapunzel there on the shore with the boat after the lanterns, when he'd fully intended to give up the crown and go right back to her. Sure, he'd felt guilty about letting Rapunzel drag him into an affair – guilty about being the reason why she was fine with sneaking around, and hiding things from her parents, and lying to herself that the whole thing was okay. And sure, he'd even felt guilty for the person that he'd been before he met her.

But this… _this_ guilt which Eugene feels now, curled pathetically on the hard cot of a prison cell, trying desperately not to cry as a result of the pure parallelism which is present here – the situation an almost dead-ringer for their first traumatic experience together – is all-consuming. This guilt is so potent, running through his system so poignantly, that Eugene accepts the fact that he's going to be running off minimal sleep, adrenaline, and inescapable shame until he sees her face again.

Maybe Eugene was always meant to be back here, in a prison cell, punished by the universe for all of his wrongdoings. Maybe his destiny was not to be the one who saved her, but to be the one who let her down, time and time again.

Maybe he was destined to be the man who loved – the man who _lost_ – the girl who always went missing.

When Eugene finally does drift into an uneasy, anxious sleep, he dreams about her. He dreams about her before waking in a cold sweat, only to realize that she isn't there in his arms, and might never be again.

**AN: I hope this chapter was worth the several-week wait! To everyone who absolutely hates Charles right now:** _**I'm** _ _**sorry** _ **. Really! Look,** _**I** _ **hate his guts, and he's my own, original character! Typically, I would be very territorial over my own characters, but Charles honestly deserves a frying pan to the face. You know it, I know it.**

**But Rapunzel getting kidnapped by Charles was my plan for this story from the very beginning. Though some familiar faces are present, this story is not meant to parallel the events of the series. Rather, it's meant to eerily parallel the events of the** _**movie** _ **: kidnapping, trauma, mental manipulation and all – with the benefit of a matured New Dream relationship to get them through this horrible circumstance.**

**I already have ideas for a second part to this AU (but who knows if I'll ever get there), in which the continued storyline** _**would** _ **be more inspired by the series, but that's not really the intended direction of this particular story. I would love to write something involving Dark Prince Eugene, but… who knows. Right now, this storyline is my main priority. We'll cross the 'part two' bridge when we get there. Wouldn't Dark Prince Eugene somehow worked into this AU be fun, though? That would** _**really** _ **show our arrogant Charles! Like, 'Hey… I'm a prince, too! Suck it!'** _***cackles in Everything I Ever Thought I Knew*** _ **Maybe someday.**

**Regardless, I only hope that you'll trust me through this angst-ridden process of New Dream finding their way back to one another (and I** _**promise** _ **that they will. Regardless of the recent promises being 'broken' by the characters in this story, this is a promise which I intend to keep. They won't be apart forever). But, before Eugene can** _**get** _ **to his princess… well, I warned you that shit was going to hit the fan, didn't I? My fun with this story has only just begun! Thank you for being here and for following along with my literary indulgences.**


	23. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, my favorite readers, here we are with a new chapter! How could things possibly get any worse for our beloved New Dream? Scratch that – don't ask. It'll only jinx them.
> 
> Today's featured song is Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus. Why did I pick this song, you may ask? Because, as we move deeper into the plotline of this story, we're going to see Eugene and Rapunzel battling a lot of personal guilt, convincing themselves that they've utterly let the other down. And well, now we're going to be taking a look at guilt from another perspective. In the last chapter, we saw Eugene feeling pretty damn guilty from the comfort of a prison cell… just like we saw him feeling guilty in the movie before the epic death scene. Now, he's in a prison cell once more, considering how he could've fucked up so badly – enough so that Rapunzel has been put in danger… again.
> 
> Ah, parallels.
> 
> In Chapter 21, we had the chance to take an intimate peek into Eugene's mind in the wake of Rapunzel being kidnapped by Charles. He's battling some very hefty guilt, and Rapunzel has her own guilt to deal with. Today, we'll get to pick apart our favorite princess's brain a little, and hear how she's doing with all of this. As always, your comments and general encouragement makes my day, and makes writing this story such a wonderful experience for me. I can only hope that it's one for you, too.

**Chapter 22: If He's Lying, Don't Come Crying**

_Plus est en vous._

It's what her mother had once told her, soon after Rapunzel had first arrived home, gentle arms wrapped around her on a huge, fluffy bed which Rapunzel was not entirely used to sleeping in quite yet. The bed was expansive, so much bigger than the little, cozy bed that she'd had in the tower. At the time, Rapunzel had wished that she could snuggle up to Eugene every night, because he was always so warm and his arms so strong, and because the huge bed felt lonely without him. But such behavior was strictly frowned upon, and she wasn't quite prepared to push her parents' boundaries.

Yet.

The freshly-returned Lost Princess of Corona had been incredibly nervous for her coronation later that day: stomach-churning, head-spinning, anxiety-ridden _nervous_. Her mother, having missed eighteen years of mother-daughter heart-to-hearts, had sunk herself onto the edge of Rapunzel's silky bed, wrapped her arms around her quivering daughter, and had spoken those four, delicate words: _'Plus est en vous.'_

' _It means, there is more in you.'_

Without her mother's gentle translation, Rapunzel honestly wouldn't have understood the well-meaning, comforting phrase. The words would have meant something to _Eugene_ , who had quickly developed an easy banter with the queen in other languages, having picked up on several of them on his grand, world adventures – adventures which Rapunzel so loved hearing all about. But to Rapunzel, the phrase was simply made up of alien words, foreign on the tongue, and seemingly strung together haphazardly – at least, until her mother gave them a new, consoling meaning.

At the time, Rapunzel had undoubtedly believed her mother's well-guided encouragement: there _was_ more in her, and there was nothing which she could not do. She had already overcome so much in her life, that Rapunzel almost felt _silly_ for being so afraid for her coronation day. After months of preparation, she would represent her parents and her kingdom well – she would be the princess which her people needed her to be. And soon enough, the coronation which she had spent _weeks_ feeling anxious about, would be nothing more than a far-off figment of the past. Rapunzel was where she was always meant to be, and the happily ever after which she never would've dreamed about even having a loose _grasp_ on, was unfolding before her very eyes. There in the palm of her hand, was everything that she ever could've wanted.

The young princess had been wide-eyed and hopeful, her heart bursting at the seams with the possibilities of this new chapter of her life. Because – _finally_ – she was _home_. She was home, and Eugene was home with her, and she was a princess, and what more could a girl _possibly_ want? She had a loving father, who protected and adored her so much, that tears would prick at the corners of his eyes when the king would consider all of the ground which he had to cover when getting to know his spirted, complex daughter. She had a gentle, compassionate mother, who loved her _for her_ – strange habits, eccentric quirks, and all – and not for her magical, anti-aging hair.

Not that she had the hair anymore. But even if she did, her mother would not have loved her any more for it, as Gothel had, and Rapunzel knows this. The hair, Eugene had delicately guided her to realize that day when he'd sheered it off with a piece of broken glass in the tower, had never really been the defining part of her at all – or even a remotely defining part of her, as Gothel had wanted her to believe, tying up every and any ounce of Rapunzel's self-worth into the hair itself. No, it was her _heart_ _for others_ which glowed golden. It was Rapunzel's heart, not her hair (as Eugene would say), which had the power to heal people.

People like him.

Her soul was a chameleon, her mother would fondly say, just like Pascal. Princess Rapunzel was ever-changing, and heart-achingly beautiful, yet the warm kind of predictably loving which could be related to the sun, which is always there each morning without fail.

But that was Rapunzel: wild in a sweet, warm way, kind in the way that made her a borderline pushover (but she was working on that), and free-spirited in the kind of way that can only pray to be reined in someday. Although, those who truly loved her, didn't _want_ her to be reined in. Rapunzel's free-spiritedness was what made her so easy to love, and so hard to let go of.

She had the love of a man who most every young woman in Corona wanted, because he was handsome as hell, mature in his own, worldly way – and, best of all, he would _change_ for you. And isn't that all any girl really wants? A man who will change for them?

This was the man who would stare the grim reaper straight in the eye, if only to ensure that she would have a chance to dodge his scythe – a man who would cut his fingers on shards of broken glass, if only so she could have free hands which still had a chance of grasping onto the future. She had the love of a man who would throw away _his_ future, if only for the sake of her still having one.

And how has she repaid him for his selflessness? How has she thanked him for the beautiful life granted to her at the hand of his split-second, shattered-glass decision? She's allowed herself to get married to another man, and has made said man so angry – because she can't stop loving _him_ – so angry, that she has been taken away from her kingdom, from her family. From the only man that she's ever wanted.

But, before any of that – before everything had been taken away from her, due to her own thoughtless behavior – she had been the girl who had everything. She had doting parents, and adoring subjects, and the purest love that she ever could've hoped to find.

So, what more could she possibly want? Yet, sitting in her bedroom that morning, anxiously awaiting her big coronation, Rapunzel had been filled to the brim with nervous energy. So much so, that she couldn't imagine there being enough _room_ in her for anything else, as her mother had suggested – but Rapunzel understood that the queen had spoken figuratively. Rapunzel, her mother had intended to say, was capable of so much more than she'd ever believed herself to be: she was capable of being the princess which her people had placed on an impossibly high pedestal and had waited eighteen years to return. She was capable of being the princess that her people _needed_. She was capable of being their hope, their future.

Regardless of every shred of good fortune which had suddenly been placed into the palm of her hand, Rapunzel had found herself incredibly overwhelmed in her first six months of living in the castle. And really, who could blame her? Not only was she trying to adjust to being a simple, fresh-into-adulthood _person_ – learning how to function in the world after being hidden away from it for so long – but she was trying to adjust to being a _princess_ : a hefty title, attached to a lifelong commitment with an extensive list of expectations which cannot be recounted in full in an entire afternoon.

Practically overnight, Rapunzel had shifted from being a person who essentially _no one_ knew existed at all, to a person known by two, but only truly loved by one, and finally, to a person who thousands of people would now look to for grace and guidance. This overbearing change was so sudden – so _unexpected_ – that Rapunzel felt incapable of truly being known by anyone ever again (except for Eugene, of course. He knew her better than anyone – even herself). She felt so uncomfortably seen by so many people, yet she never felt truly _known_ by any of them. Rapunzel's scope of admirers and those who depended on her had blown from one, to _thousands_ , in a matter of only a few eventful, life-altering days.

She had once been nothing more than a girl in a tower, and she had been perfectly _okay_ with being that girl, because she hadn't known any better. She hadn't known enough to realize that there _was_ more in her. Now, not only was Rapunzel expected to be the lovely, compassionate Crown Princess of Corona, but she was to be their ticket to prosperity in the years to come, long after her parents stepped down from the throne. She was to be her people's _future_.

And sometimes, she just wanted to be Rapunzel. But just being Rapunzel – free-spirited, adventurous, chameleon-souled Rapunzel – was not a luxury which the young princess was granted too often anymore. There were times when Eugene would sense her restlessness within the castle. He, without fail, could always sense when Rapunzel was going a bit stir-crazy, and when the weighty expectations were all becoming just a bit too much for her to handle gracefully, the anxiety of it all bubbling under her carefree, happy-go-lucky surface.

Honestly, after spending eighteen years locked away in a tower, Rapunzel had assumed that _Eugene_ would be the one to experience frequent stir-craziness, but this often wasn't so. Sure, he sometimes missed his daring, roguish adventures, but having a life with Rapunzel was well worth giving all of that up. More often than not, it was _Rapunzel_ who struggled with adapting to palace life, and she often felt guilty for that. After all, shouldn't she be constantly overflowing at the brim with thankfulness? Shouldn't she be ecstatic about this new life which had been granted to her?

Yes, she should. And she was. Rapunzel _was_ thankful for this chandelier shaking, gold-dipped, crowned life of hers – very much so. But this doesn't mean that castle fever was not a frequently broached issue for the active princess: an issue which, with the help of Eugene, Rapunzel was trying to learn that she didn't have to feel so guilty for. Regardless of what her parents might push her to believe – or the council, for that matter – it was okay to want to explore beyond the castle walls, and it was okay to need a moment to _breathe_ again.

So, always incredibly adept to her emotions, Eugene would saddle up Max, and he would convince the king that she needed to _go_ – just for the afternoon, no longer – because only he could truly take note of the tremble of her bottom lip, the anxious look in her eye, the stress in her voice. Eugene had always been so in tune with his princess, capable of reading her so clearly, as though Rapunzel were no more complicated to him than a children's picture book. And she adored him for it.

They would go away together for the afternoon – sometimes to the swaying meadow with the willow tree for a picnic – the one which Eugene had showed her in their first weeks together in the castle. In the peaceful company of one another, they would bask in the warm sunshine, and share long, heartfelt conversations concerning their future together: a wedding which would never come, and children which would never be made, and a whole lot of dreams which could never be fulfilled – unbeknownst to them at the time.

Other times, they would simply bask in the blissful silence of not having any expectations weighing upon their shoulders for a few hours. For a few hours, fingers would run through hair, and lips would meet, and sometimes, quiet moans would be released from those lips – moans which only the crows perched in the trees above would have to keep a secret. And for those few, fleeting hours, they could simply be Rapunzel and Eugene: not Princess Rapunzel and Guard Eugene, or Princess Rapunzel and the ex-thief, Flynn Rider, as so many still felt inclined to call him by. For those few hours, they could just be _them_ , with no one to explain themselves to, no one to hide their hand brushes and dark looks from, and no one to tell them that what they were doing was to be considered wrong.

And Rapunzel liked it that way. She liked the way that Eugene's calloused palm would press into her soft one, or into her side, or cupping her blushing cheek as she hiked her dress up hastily. She liked that he would steal kisses from her when no one was looking (she especially liked when he would do much _more_ than kiss her), and she liked that he wasn't the kind of man which a princess was expected to court. She liked that he was a little rough around the edges, yet so soft and approachable in the eyes and at heart. She liked that he had so many engaging stories to tell, and she liked that he knew so much more about the world than she did, so that he could be the one to teach her about all of it.

She liked when Eugene would teach her things, even if she really wasn't _supposed_ to know them – even when her mother had warned her that Eugene was probably much more experienced than her in just about every way. But Rapunzel didn't mind – it made her feel close to him, the way that he guided her so patiently through most everything. His moral compass was a little wobbly when they'd first met, not entirely pointing north. But his heart was made of pure gold, and his eyes looked like the whiskey in her dad's alcohol cabinet, and the way that he smiled when he was talking to her always made Rapunzel's knees feel like jelly, and always made her stomach ache in a very curious way.

Rapunzel liked when she and Eugene had the luxury of getting away together, if only for a few hours. She liked that _he_ was the one to steal her away, and she liked him best when he was alone with her. She liked him all the time, really – but living in the castle together had its challenges: living in the castle meant judgmental looks, and prying eyes, and strict council heads.

In court life, feeling him, and touching him, and _wanting_ him, were not things which Rapunzel could act upon so easily, or so discreetly. This – this _control_ (or, perhaps, a lack thereof) – was a skill which Rapunzel had only come to learn over time, with his help. Her willpower where Eugene was concerned was not entirely exceptional, and Rapunzel's parents often softly (and sometimes, where her father was concerned, not so softly), chided her for such things. Her mother would delicately explain to Rapunzel the blessed curse of having to love someone behind closed doors – because _not_ doing so when you are a royal, was to be considered _wildly_ _inappropriate_.

But she didn't care. Eugene was her future just as much as she was the kingdom's key to prosperity, and Rapunzel wasn't entirely sure why such a thing needed to be kept a secret.

And to be Eugene's future… now _that_ was enticing. The notion, even in the earliest stages of their relationship, had been the kind of enticing which caused the butterflies in Rapunzel's stomach to flutter their delicate, little wings. These gut-invading butterflies had effectively flapped off a thick layer of dust: dust which had settled after eighteen years of being fully convinced that her future would be lived out essentially alone in a hidden tower. To consider being Eugene's wife, to consider having a family with him, to consider waking up to his utterly handsome face each and every morning – this thought drove Rapunzel straight off the cliff of heartwarming possibilities, right into the dangerous ravine of _'I have to have it, or I'll never feel fulfilled with my life ever again.'_

To be Eugene's future, and for him to be hers, was unquestionable: a simple given, her deepest desire – a _fated_ happenstance. But to be the future of an _entire kingdom?_ It was exciting, it was an honor, it was…

It was _terrifying_. Because Rapunzel had essentially no idea if she was truly _worth_ being the future of an entire kingdom. She'd spent her entire life being told that she wasn't good enough, and suddenly, she had to be good for _everyone_.

On that day of her coronation, her mother had been entirely right: there _was_ more in her, more than Rapunzel had ever hoped to be when she had still been living in the tower. There was so much of _Eugene_ inside of her, Rapunzel had often worried if she could be both the loving partner which he needed, and the dependable princess which her people needed. She often wondered if she could effectively fulfill both roles, or if she would simply have to sacrifice one for the other for the entirety of her life: assumedly, would she have to put her kingdom before Eugene, time and time again?

Would Rapunzel struggle to fill the shoes of both roles, effectively breaking her heels as she went? Was she strong enough to forever bear the heavy, combined weight of Eugene's ring on her finger, and the people's crown on her head? Could her lifelong commitment to these two incredibly important, yet unequal parties, be truly fulfilled to the potential in which they both deserved? Could she possibly give all of herself to one, as they deserved, without somehow neglecting the other?

Worst of all: would her people unwantedly, endlessly, _inevitably_ have to come first in Rapunzel's life? Not in her heart, but in her strong sense of duty?

Yes, they would. And her sudden, unwanted marriage to Charles had wrung out Rapunzel's deepest fears like a wet rag in the hot, summer sun, proving her constantly-nagging concerns to be true. Her commitment to her people _would_ always come first, in a way that she never could have predicted when she'd stepped into that rose-colored role – in a way that Eugene had never deserved. This commitment is why Rapunzel had refused to run away with Eugene when he'd begged her to do so in the garden on that horrible night of the party, despite how much she'd ached to simply disappear into the night with him and never come back.

Now, Rapunzel realizes with a gut-wrenching guilt, that's _exactly_ what she should've done: run away with him. To hell with the kingdom, as Eugene had probably thought that night. What about them? What about their love, their love which had been worth dying for? Wouldn't that always be more important than _anything?_ Apparently, not to her.

Instead, bit by the sharp, unforgiving teeth of a monarchy which had been struggling for the better part of two decades – both emotionally and financially – she would be married off to a foreign, haughty prince, only for purposes of economic security over genuine desires of the heart. Her future with Eugene would crumble underfoot unexpectedly, and the weight of her crown would far outweigh the weight of any engagement ring that he could've hoped to get down on one knee with. The crown had beat him to the punch, had gotten her into that white dress before Eugene ever could, and Rapunzel had been forced to neglect the one person which she'd been entirely _hell-bent_ on never losing.

All because she was – according to that _damned_ council – her people's 'only hope at prosperity, economic rebound, and increase in general moral.' And her shoulders would grow weak, and tired, and sore, because who in the _hell_ can elegantly carry a weight like that?

So, much to Rapunzel's dismay, her duty to her kingdom would eventually outweigh the well-intended, meant-to-be-kept promises which she'd made: promises which she'd made in the courtyards and in the meadow under the warm, afternoon sun. Promises which she'd made under the starry, night sky, pointing out constellations and silently praying that the sun would never come up, if only so they could be _alone_ for just a little while longer, lost in the glittering universe of one another.

Promises which she'd made between warm sheets crumpled in fisted fingers, promises which she'd panted between heated kisses – kisses which were rooted in that special kind of lust which stems from pure, destined, inescapable love.

' _Tell me you don't love him.'_

That's what he'd pleaded with her – hushed and completely desperate, the words on his tongue setting her body _on fire_ – words that he'd whispered to her the last time they'd made love. The last time they'd made love before… before she would be standing here on the deck of this expensive ship which has become her short-term prison: a prison which she will soon trade for a much bigger one. Now, she is standing here, sucking in the cold air which is not quite as bitter as her heart feels now.

Rapunzel would give anything to relive that disastrous, hectic night: would give anything to say _yes_ to him, to run away with Eugene the very moment that he'd asked. She would give anything not to leave him crestfallen there in the garden maze, heartbroken and knowing exactly where he stood: surely not at the bottom of her heart, but definitely below her kingdom, below her people. She would give anything to know that making love with him that last time, would _be_ the last time. She would give anything to know that, when the sun would come up the next morning, Charles would already be nose-deep in plotting her unwanted escape from Corona.

Well, Rapunzel _had_ wanted to escape Corona, some days. She can't deny that, and won't pretend to – there's no use in pretending anymore. Some days, nothing had sounded better than running away. Just not with Charles.

And Eugene – her sweet, perfect Eugene – having so gracefully accepted that her duty to her kingdom was too great to simply run away from, had _pleaded_ with her that night. He'd pleaded with her as they'd moaned and came together – legs shaking, greedily watching one another's release, all heavy-eyed and hearts beating dangerously fast. He'd pleaded with her to just tell him that she would never be able to love her husband in the way that she loves him. That was all that he'd needed from her, all that he'd truly wanted.

He didn't need her to run away, he didn't need her to abandon her kingdom. Regardless of his heat-of-the-moment question in the garden, Eugene had always understood the detriment of that selfish decision, and had ultimately respected her choice to honor her commitment to her people before her commitment to him.

Really, he had just needed her to love him in that vulnerable, heartbreaking moment. So she did, hard. That night, sex with him had never felt so good, and maybe it was because this time had been –unknowingly to them – the last time. The last time before everything nosedived, and Charles had decided to nosedive right along with it. That night, she had given every piece of herself to Eugene that she possibly could have: willingly, and desperately, filled with a painful want and desire: a want and desire which she will _never_ feel for her husband. And if Rapunzel had known then that it would be the last time, she would've loved him even harder.

Stalyan had been right about one very important thing, if nothing else: you don't forget someone who makes love to you like Eugene does – you just don't. But then again, perhaps Stalyan had never made love with him at all. She'd fucked him in the last ten years, sure – enough times to last her for the _next_ decade, Rapunzel can only assume (albeit a bit jealously).

But making love? That seemed to be a special action reserved for the princess entirely.

Regardless, Stalyan had been completely right: you don't forget his hands searing into your skin like heart-shaped burns, you don't forget the pleased look in his eye as he sends you over the edge, screaming his name all the way down, and you don't forget the way that he absolutely _rips_ your soul from its deepest, darkest hiding places. Places which you would be embarrassed to let your soul fall into in the first place, but it all feels too good to care. That was what being with him had felt like.

But more important than any of that, you don't forget someone who _loves you_ like Eugene does, so purely and so genuinely. And if Rapunzel weren't so protective, she would suggest that _everyone_ know what it's like to be loved by him, if only once. Because being loved by Eugene Fitzherbert is kept promises, and endearing nicknames galore, and always having a warm, safe place to run to when the rest of the world is absolutely teetering on the edge of dependableness.

' _Tell me you don't love him.'_

That's what he'd said to her that night. And, because it was the only thing that she _could_ do in the wake of the guilt of not running away with him, Rapunzel had promised that she wouldn't love Charles, not ever. And she wouldn't.

The guilt of not leaving with Eugene – of not _protecting him_ from this heartache – was eating Rapunzel alive, and he had to know that her heart was still entirely, _eternally_ his. She would never love her husband – or any other man, for that matter – if only because loving anyone who is not Eugene, is not only completely unideal, but impossible altogether. It would be altogether infeasible to love anyone who is not Eugene, because he is lining her lungs, pushing the air out of her body. Even now, an entire week's-trip away from her, he is the salty air which she breathes in, stinging her nostrils in the cold.

He is in every single part of her.

Eugene is threaded within her so beautifully, so painfully – so _deeply_ – that he lingers between every breath, lingers in her mouth like a thick melancholy which somehow tastes sweet, haunting each of her shaky intakes. Not haunting her in a traditional, terrifying way. No, not at all – he haunts her bones like a dull ache, stains her lips like the muted lip color which she's often expected to wear to royal events and parties. He's imbedded within the soft lines of her palms, there are still traces of his smell in her hair, and although she sometimes feels horrible for it, he's the pang between her legs that just won't _go away_ – not even in high-stress, disastrous situations like this one.

So, no – Eugene won't ever _not_ be a deeply threaded part of her. At least, not in the way that Charles would like to think that he's capable of unthreading them from one another. Charles would like to think that he's won this testosterone-induced battle that he's had with Eugene from the moment in which the two men had met.

And maybe he _has_ claimed his mighty victory, for now. Maybe he's muddled enough in the mind to truly believe that the princess will be his for good, finally out of the distracting grasp of that _damn thief._ The evil-minded prince can do all that he wants to _physically_ separate the princess from her charming ex-thief. But, much to Charles's dismay, he cannot quite seem to separate them on the level in which certain souls are so pathetically tied, there is no chance of cutting the tangled strings.

Charles had once promised himself, many weeks ago, that he would effectively snuff out the light which was Rapunzel's obviously lingering desire for Eugene Fitzherbert. He would snuff out the thought-to-be-hidden, lustful looks from across the ballroom (looks which had made painful sense, now that Charles is basking in hindsight), the soul connection which they'd so clearly had, and the memories which they'd shared. He would be enough to make her forget about _all of it._

But, if his wife's behavior in the past week on the ship had proven _anything_ , it had proven that doing so was going to be much harder than Charles had originally anticipated.

It was clear: Eugene puts the wind in her sails – no, to her, he is the wind _itself_. He is the very thing which propels her forward, the thing which gives Rapunzel a reason to defy the harsh current, and fight her way to the eye of the storm. If there was any light to be had, it was because Eugene had lit the candle. If there was life to be lived, it was because Eugene had been happy to give up his own life for hers, again and again. Her world revolved around him, and her world would subsequently decay in his absence.

Charles, on the other hand, has only successfully shredded her freshly-windless sails, and has blamed _her_ for the ship going down. It's ironic, really.

And now, they're sailing upon a ship which Rapunzel would be so _lucky_ to send to the sea's watery floor. At least then, she wouldn't have to be trapped with the begrudged prince which she must refer to as 'husband' any longer.

"A penny for your thoughts, my dear?"

A regal, steady voice sounds from behind her, dragging the princess from her self-deprecating, guilt-ridden thoughts – though Rapunzel doesn't turn around to greet the voice as its owner leans against the railing beside her, looking her over closely with blue, uneasy eyes.

"You've been awfully quiet today. Not at all like the way you've been for the majority of our trip."

_Our_ trip – as if it had been some kind of mutual, joint decision. Yes, there had been a lot of kicking, and a lot of screaming, and even a few indelicate _'screw you's'_ intertwined with the princess's generally hostile behavior.

"Oh, I'm not thinking of much." Rapunzel edges slightly away from her husband, fiddling with the lacey cuff on the sleeve of her dress before leaning against the ship's railing herself, gazing out into the choppy waves. "Mostly just about the way Eugene is going to wring your neck when all of this is over, and how I'm going to watch him do it."

Rapunzel takes pause for a short moment, ruefully considering the satisfying image, finally turning to look her husband directly in the eye for the first time that evening.

"Or, better yet, I'll just do it myself."

This comment inspires a deep laugh to bubble in Charles's throat, as though he were enjoying this ongoing, bitter banter of theirs.

"Very _funny_ , Princess. But really, your dramatics aren't necessary anymore. You're not going to hurt my feelings with your empty threats, or push me away with your crude insults. They don't bother me as you want them to."

"I wasn't trying to be funny, Charles." Rapunzel sighs heavily, attempting to appear as unbothered as possible, staring out at the waves once more, and donning a surprisingly calm expression upon her tired face. "Eugene is going to come for me, and he is quite literally going to _wring_ your neck. And I am going to watch."

The prince clinks his tongue as if to chastise her, chuckling darkly.

"Why are you so sure that he'll come for you? Do you truly believe that I would make it easy for him?"

Rapunzel shrugs casually in response to her husband's tantalizing question, as if their conversation were about no more than the weather.

"Because he promised that he would. He promised that he would always protect me from people like _you_."

"And you believed him?"

"I believe everything he says to me."

Rapunzel, having known that this particular comment would effectively upset her husband, watches with satisfaction as the prince blows hot air from his nose and grits his whitened teeth, a green envy developing in his narrowed eyes.

"Why? He's a _thief_ , Rapunzel. He's not good enough for you."

Now, it's Rapunzel's turn to laugh, pushing her weight from the railing to face Charles full-frontally.

"Oh, and _you_ are?" Losing every glint of humor which had previously graced her face for the first time in days, Rapunzel shakes her head defiantly, a newfound anger bubbling in her chest. "Eugene would never do this to me! And for that very reason, I'm in love with that _thief_ , and not with you."

Another bout of ugly jealousy rears its head and flashes noticeably in Charles's eyes, though he quickly regains his stiff, regal demeanor, tilting his chin up at her in his own showcase of spousal defiance.

"Well, you won't be for much longer, and I _don't_ want to hear you whining when he doesn't come for you. After all, he _let_ me take you." Charles cocks his head in mock questioning, having fully believed that he's won the upper hand in their hundredth spat of the week. "So, he's already broken that promise to always protect you, hasn't he?"

Rapunzel scrunches her nose angrily, coiling her fists in the attempts to find a worthy comeback.

_He's just trying to get into your head. He's just trying to manipulate you into letting go of Eugene, which_ _**isn't** _ _going to happen. Not ever. I'll kick and I'll scream for the rest of my life if I have to, but I will_ _**not** _ _let Charles live in peace with what he's done. Even if Eugene doesn't come for me after all, Charles is going to pay for this. Mom will make him pay for this, Dad will surely make him pay for this, and my people will make him pay for this._

_**I** _ _will make him pay for this._

"Eugene hasn't broken anything. You're just a psychopath."

"You know, sweetheart… I understand that your experience with the _powders_ hasn't been so pleasant." Charles places an adept finger under her chin with a sickeningly sweet smile, directing Rapunzel's reluctant gaze to rest fully upon him. "I would _truly_ hate to have to continue giving them to you, especially after you've been on much better behavior these last few days."

Gritting her teeth, Rapunzel tries to pull away, but her husband's grasp on her face remains.

"I would rather puke my guts up every day for the rest of my life than live with you in faked civility."

And that's just about all Rapunzel has been doing for the past week: well, puking her guts up, that is. Faking civility with Charles is something which the princess simply does not have the energy for.

From the evening in which she'd been unknowingly placed onto this expansive ship, unconscious and unaware, Rapunzel had fought and fought, and Charles had given her a dose of a strange-colored powder each time that she did; usually grinded into her food, or dissolved in the water that she _needed_ to drink, if she had any hope of surviving this case of grand theft princess long enough to get back to Eugene in one piece.

"Mmm… is that so? Even after the night of awful hallucinations that you had earlier this week?"

Charles tilts her chin with another resentful smile, as if closely inspecting the vulnerable column of her bared neck, his snake-like eyes dragging down her body menacingly before ultimately looking her in the face once more.

"You wouldn't stop fighting me that night, and it really _did_ pain me to see you that way."

This particular night which Charles speaks of now, had been a nightmare to end all nightmares, worse than even the one Rapunzel had experienced when she'd first set sail with Charles last week – the nightmare in which Gothel herself had so elegantly graced Rapunzel's half-conscious mind with her presence. A few days later, when Rapunzel had caught on to the powders which Charles has been feeding her – powders used to sedate and keep her from fighting him too hard, or simply throwing herself overboard – she had realized that what she was experiencing, weren't nightmares at all.

"Oh, I'll _gladly_ take the hallucinations. I saw Eugene in them, after all, so they weren't really all that bad. Maybe this time, he'll wind up in the bed with me, and –"

All sense of humor slips from Charles's face now, his single finger being joined by the rest of his hand as he roughly takes her face in his fingers. Charles pulls his taunting wife harshly forward, holding Rapunzel's hard gaze with a glare of his own, sparkling teeth barred.

"I would _watch_ that pretty mouth of yours if I were you, Princess. Before you dig yourself into a very, _very_ deep hole."

"What? Does that make you _jealous_ , Charles?" Rapunzel steps forward, further tantalizing her husband, fully aware of how angry she has the power to make him. "Does it make you jealous that I was so willing to get into bed with Eugene, yet still refuse to do so with you?"

Rage spilling over his irises, Charles coils his hand back, as if to strike her across the cheek. Before he can connect his skin with hers, though, Rapunzel reaches up, grabbing him by the wrist, fury bubbling in her own, green eyes.

"What're _you_ going to do? You can't hurt me any more than you already have by taking me away from him. I still want him and you know it, and that bothers your sad, little ego, doesn't it?"

Rapunzel tries to tug herself away from him once more, though Charles's grip upon her with his free hand is strong as iron, the tension of the moment painfully palpable.

"You've gotten what you wanted. Why keep torturing me?"

"Oh, I don't mean to _torture_ you, dear." Charles ultimately shoves her away, causing Rapunzel to stumble against the ship's railing as he smooths down the front of his wrinkled jacket. "You simply need to understand that your selfish actions have harsh consequences, and that the way you have acted is no way to treat your faithful husband. You will learn how to be pleasant, and present, and _faithful_ to me."

"You're calling yourself faithful now?" Rapunzel crosses her arms over her chest, blowing out an angry laugh. "Faithful to what, exactly? Your _insanity?_ "

Charles only clicks his tongue with a gravely chuckle of his own, and the lack of humor in their situation doesn't quite match the number of bitter laughs which they've shared with one another in the last week.

"If you keep it up with your mouth, darling, I won't be the one pleading my case to insanity. Hallucinations are bad for the brain, they say."

Having fully believed that he's claimed the last word (and effectively stricken fear in his wife's recently-jumbled mind), Charles turns to leave, his expensive, polished shoes clicking against the wooden planks of the ship. Before he has the chance to leave the deck on his own terms, though, Rapunzel's low voice inspires Charles to turn back to look at her once more.

"You know, Charles, the last time someone took me away from my family, away from _Eugene_ …"

Those huge, haunting green eyes of hers bore into his, the darkening evening sky placing upon her head a halo of dusk which thrusts Rapunzel into a dull, menacing light. And for only a moment, the prince feels intimidated by her tiny, quivering frame – though, of course, he would never admit such a thing aloud.

"They ended up dead."

Clearing his throat, Charles tries his best to appear nonchalant, tries his best to appear unaffected by her clear attempt at an effective threat – though, he's considered plenty of times in the past week what _could_ happen if his plan were to go awry.

What could happen if Eugene Fitzherbert finds a way to get to her after all.

"Yes. And?"

"And that's exactly what's going to happen to you when Eugene gets here, you asshole!"

Scoffing, Charles allows the insult to roll off of her tongue, off of his shoulders, and into the choppy waves below them as he turns away once more, fully intending to leave Rapunzel alone on the ship's deck in the cold, evening air. There are people here on this ship, people who he has hired to keep an eye on her – to make sure that she doesn't send herself overboard simply to spite him – when her bad behavior becomes a little too much for the short-tempered prince to handle gracefully.

"Oh, please. Don't be demented, Rapunzel. You actually think he's coming for you? I mean, if he _really_ loved you, he never would've let me take you in the first place."

With that, Charles smiles back at his wife one last time, turning on his heel to give her a quick wave over his shoulder.

"We'll be arriving in Maddoline by morning!"

* * *

Rapunzel has been utterly sick for the majority of the past week – literally, and in heart.

She'd reached for Eugene enough times in those first few nights on the ship to now know that his warm body won't be there on the bed beside her. Her arm would simply fall heavily on the sheets, depressingly yearning for his touch which won't be there to comfort her. His touch which won't be there to pull her close to his chest, and bury his nose in her hair, and mumble endearing, half-asleep phrases.

Instead, _Charles_ is always there in the cold sheets with her: snoring softly, chest heaving slightly, eyelashes fluttering as he dreams. As he dreams about what, Rapunzel doesn't want to know. Rapunzel, lying there wide awake most nights, can't help but notice how her husband doesn't look quite peaceful there in bed with her. He never had, even in the castle. Somehow, Charles still appears rigid, and stiff, and prepared to reach out and grab her if she tries to leave, even in his sleep.

Perhaps her husband's inability to truly rest, has something to do with her being on the very edge of the bed, refusing to lie even remotely close to him. Perhaps his inability to trust her, even in his deepest sleep, has everything to do with her obvious inability to even _try_ to love him – to let him in.

Perhaps if she would have given Charles a chance all those months ago, none of this would have happened, and he wouldn't have to be so angry with her now – _everyone_ wouldn't have to be so angry with her now. She wouldn't have to feel this guilt, this shame.

If Rapunzel had only given her husband a chance, if she only would have accepted the marriage for what it was, she wouldn't have to haunt this ship, carrying the ghostly knowledge that all of this is _her own fault._ It's her own fault that she's been taken from her kingdom in this way, for the second time in her young life.

It's her own fault that the situation has unraveled so disastrously: because she hadn't been strong enough to let go of Eugene. Even though letting go of him, would have _protected_ him.

Eugene had always looked so beautifully peaceful when he would sleep. She would sneak into bed with him, and he would drift off beside her, and it were as though he had never felt any pain in his life at all – even though Rapunzel knew that wasn't true. If she hadn't known the truth of his past endeavors, Rapunzel easily could have convinced herself that he was an angel there in bed with her. Perhaps this natural sense of peace on his face, came about because Eugene had never had to worry about her trying to leave him – because leaving Eugene isn't something that the princess ever would have done on her own accord.

He knew it, she knew it, and Charles knew it. For goodness sake, everyone in the _kingdom_ probably knew it by now, if the ever-presently gossiping maids had anything to do with it: Princess Rapunzel was never going to peel herself from Eugene Fitzherbert unless someone _made her._ Her husband would never truly satisfy her – at least, not while Eugene was around.

Perhaps this makes the princess a bit of a tease, but who could blame her, really? The relationship which she'd had with the ex-most-wanted thief of Corona was so secure, so airtight, that Prince Charles understood his only two, viable choices: get rid of Eugene (which quickly had unveiled itself as an unlikely option, especially after Stalyan's _clear_ inability to seduce him), or take Rapunzel away from him altogether.

And that's exactly why Rapunzel has been on a fancy Maddolineon ship for the better part of a week.

Her hands have felt completely restless for Eugene since the night in which she'd found herself on the boat. The wood planks of the ship's floor creak underfoot, reminding Rapunzel of the wooden floor of Eugene's bedroom. The deep, blue water, surrounding the ship on all sides, reminds her of the harbor in Corona. The water is reminiscent of the night in which they'd been drawn into the golden haze of a thousand lanterns, his warm hand upon the back of her neck, molding itself – molding his touch – there upon her skin forever, her lips anticipating the feel of his for the very first time.

It was the kind of kiss that she'd been stripped clean by another person for the first time in order to realize that she'd _wanted_ _it_ – to realize that she had wanted something which Rapunzel had never thought herself capable of wanting from another person, yet she found herself wanting from him all the time now.

It was a kiss which had been stolen from her by circumstance.

They're always being stolen away from one another by unlucky _circumstance_ , aren't they? Old witches, and political arrangements, and princes who don't know how to accept that they will never be accepted in the heart of a princess who already belongs to someone else. They could knock on wood, they could pray to the stars, but was the universe hell-bent on making this difficult for them?

It's painful. No, it's entirely _unfair_. All of it: having to be married to Charles, having to pretend, and being reduced to sneaking around in order to still properly love Eugene. And, ultimately, after sneaking around couldn't be a well-kept secret anymore, it's unfair that she has to be on this ship, sailing too far away from him to ever be okay again. It's unfair, the way that everything reminds Rapunzel of him.

And for the first time since knowing Eugene, she hates it. She hates that _everything_ reminds her of him. Rapunzel hates it, because she's never felt so messed up in the head in her entire life – not even the day in which she'd watched him die in her arms. She despises her weakness, her inability to unthread him from her constant state of consciousness _just_ long enough to be _numb_ to the terrifying reality of her current situation. Even when she's half-conscious, submerged in hallucinations, he's there, begging her to come home to him! And if she doesn't find a way to become numb to the notion that Charles has stooped low enough to physically _take her_ from Eugene, Rapunzel is not quite sure how she's going to get through this notion alive.

Charles had promised that she would love his kingdom, had promised that Maddoline would be a _'perfect fit'_ for a nature-loving, creatively-driven young woman like her. Apparently, Maddoline was all romantic vineyards, and bustling villages, and rolling, sun-bathed meadows which she could paint to her heart's content. There would be new friends to meet, and parties to be thrown, and adventures to be had. And it all sounded wonderful, objectively – but it sounded wonderful in the way that it sounded positively _horrible_ , because Eugene wouldn't be there to enjoy any of it with her. And if Eugene isn't there, would any of it really matter?

Rapunzel supposes not. Because she would have gladly given up the crown, the title, the ball gowns and the expensive parties – the lifestyle of pure cushiness and lifelong security – if only to be with him forever. She would have given all of it up for him, and she _could have_. She could have left with him, that night in the garden, but she'd said no. She'd said no, because her strong sense of duty to her people was absolutely _suffocating_.

Better yet, Rapunzel could have hidden her knowledge about being the Lost Princess altogether, and ran off with him the second that he'd reopened his eyes after dying on her tower floor.

In hindsight, that's probably what she _should've_ done. Rapunzel should've thought it through, should have _considered_ what her being a princess would actually – _realistically_ – mean for the two of them. She should've known that something like this – something like an arranged marriage – would happen.

Though Rapunzel loves her parents (and her people, for that matter), with a love which is unconditional and pure, being the Crown Princess of Corona has assumedly brought her more heartache than _not_ being the princess would have. Because if she hadn't been the princess, she still would've had Eugene, and life would have consisted of the two of them and nothing else. And that alternative sounds particularly lovely in the midst of Rapunzel's current predicament.

And now, here she is, swaying haphazardly on a ship which is sailing her to a foreign kingdom, trying her best to keep down an ongoing ebb-and-flow of bile which threatens to crawl its way up her throat.

Maybe she deserves this. Maybe she deserves to be on this ship. Maybe, as Charles had suggested yesterday evening on the top deck during their daily argument, this blindsided trip is simply a twisted punishment for Rapunzel's deceit. This is Charles's special brand of twisted punishment for her secrets, and for her shameful inability to remain faithful to her husband. And maybe that's what happens to girls like her, girls who cannot respect the constraints of holy matrimony: they don't deserve to live a happy life, a life in which they are trusted to make decisions for themselves.

But Rapunzel is not a typically unfaithful person. Truly, she's not! She's not completely devoid of moral high ground – actually, she's quite the opposite. On most occasions, Rapunzel is fiercely loyal, and unconditionally trustworthy.

But when it comes to Eugene, she simply cannot follow the expectations of her marriage with Charles. When it comes to Eugene, Rapunzel cannot find the strength within herself to be completely morally correct. How _could_ she? How could she not sneak away from her marriage bed, slipping into a bed where she always felt loved, and cherished, and understood? How could she _not_ ache to be wrapped up in a set of arms which are so warm, so familiar to her? Arms which are so dependable, so safe?

How could she possibly be expected to give him up? How could she let go of the one thing which has always kept her from crash-landing completely? This is something that Charles can never understand. That's what Eugene did: he kept her, and he held her, and he loved her so hard that she never quite hit the ground each time that Rapunzel was convinced she would. No one wants to hit the ground, and no one wants to do it alone.

And why couldn't her husband simply understand that? How couldn't he understand that Eugene is the only thing which kept her glued together at all? Without him, Rapunzel threatens to come apart completely.

Rapunzel had been careening to the ground long before Charles had actually found out about the affair, Eugene holding her up the best that he could as she'd awaited the dreaded bone crush. She'd waited anxiously for Charles to discover the truth of her very much _not_ -terminated relationship with Eugene, and she'd waited for the prince to grab her in his hands, crushing her bones for himself, yanking her away.

And her fingers would still somehow be intertwined with Eugene's, and they would twist and break as Charles tried to claim her hand for himself.

And maybe that's the stark, undeniable difference between Charles and Eugene: one of them had grown up with _everything_ , yet had absolutely nothing to offer to her, while the other had grown up with nothing, and had offered her everything that he had. He'd offered her all of _himself_ , and Rapunzel couldn't have wanted anything in the world more than that.

And maybe, _that's_ the difference between Charles and Eugene: one man would give her life, and the other would take her life from her. One man would keep her together, and the other would sever her apart. One man would give her golden memories, and the other would soak them in an envy so strong, that these memories would become tainted and painful.

And if she could be eighteen, frozen there in time forever, she would. Rapunzel would freeze herself and Eugene in an endless loop of that first year together: all stolen kisses, and chasing one another through the courtyards, and him teaching her everything that she probably shouldn't know. Over and over again, he would teach her the way that swear words can fall off of your lips so crudely, and the way that kissing someone's neck can make their pulse quicken under your tongue, and the way that loving another person with your entire heart is supposed to feel: all drenched in golden warmth, and wandering hands, and brushing someone's hair behind their ear when it falls into their eyes.

_This_ isn't how it's supposed to feel: all anxiety-ridden nights, and manipulation, and haughty conversation. This isn't how it's supposed to feel: backhanded compliments, and possessive gazes which make your skin crawl, and wandering hands which are so unfamiliar. Here, on this hauntingly quiet ship, so far from home that you feel completely turned around in your own body, isn't how it's supposed to feel. This: stomach perpetually queasy, salty tears consistently falling onto the pillowcase when you're actually conscious enough to cry, eyes red-rimmed from sobbing yourself to sleep every night…

_**This** _ _isn't how love is supposed to feel._

And maybe, if she'd never known Eugene at all, Rapunzel wouldn't know any better. Maybe then, she _would_ be able to believe that love should feel like this.

But, unfortunately for her, she _does_ know. Rapunzel knows all too well what it feels like to be so pathetically consumed by another person, that you aren't entirely sure how anything else could fit inside of you. She knows what it feels like to have their taste linger in your mouth, and she knows what it feels like to want them so badly that it actually _hurts_. She knows what it feels like to beg them to kiss you in the dark, she knows what it feels like to completely let your guard down for another person, and she knows what it feels like to completely bare yourself to them – to let them mold themselves to you forever. Mold themselves to you in mind, body, and soul.

She knows which attributes true love is supposed to embody, and this is not it.

This is not a grand act of love. Rapunzel knows that, no matter how many times Charles has tried to convince her that it is in the past week. No, she knows better. Thanks to Eugene, she knows better. Love is not the seeking out of power, love is not heart-blackening envy, and love is not constantly fighting for the upper hand. At least, love with Eugene isn't.

But maybe love from Charles – if Rapunzel feels so generous to label it as love (which, honestly, she doesn't) – will always be those things.

Maybe marriage with Charles was always meant to be one reigning over the other – naturally, him reigning over _her_. Maybe it was always supposed to feel like the churning of storm clouds in the distance, like awkward hand brushes and steely gazes. Maybe this one-sided love from Charles was always supposed to feel like the bone crush which occurs just after you've been careening to the ground, fingers desperate to find something to latch onto, and discovering that nothing is there to save you. Maybe marriage with Charles was always supposed to feel like having strings tied tightly around your arms, dancing like a puppet in his hands.

Maybe marriage is _supposed_ to mean being taken far from home, and maybe being taken far from home won't be so bad.

That's what Rapunzel _wants_ to believe. She knows that she must find a way to believe this, or she will never survive. But she can't. She can't bring herself to believe that this new home of hers will be beautiful, because Eugene is still at home – _he_ is still her home – her _real_ home. And if he's still there in Corona, and if she's here in Maddoline, nothing in her world will ever be right again.

This morning, Rapunzel remains locked in the small, cabin bedroom as the shore of the highly-coveted Maddoline kingdom quickly approaches. She stays locked inside of the small cabin, ignoring Charles's coaxing for her to join him on the top deck, because it's a ' _wonderfully sunny day!'_ She ignores him, because she doesn't want to see him, and she doesn't want to see it. Any of it. She doesn't want to see this place, because this place is not home. And no matter how much Charles wants it to be that for her, it never will be.

This place is not home, because Eugene is not in this place.

The numb, queasy princess considers what the love of her life must be doing right now. Is he already on his way to her, or has he been trapped somewhere? Has… has someone _hurt_ him – would Charles hurt him? She doesn't doubt it. It's become clear that underestimating Charles any further would not be entirely wise on her part, though pushing her husband's buttons has become a quite entertaining survival tactic for Rapunzel in the past few days.

Lying there in the rocking bed, staring up at the wooden ceiling, Rapunzel realizes that her frame of reference for the past week is completely blurry. She can barely remember much of anything, aside from waking up on the ship that evening when Charles had first taken her from her old bedroom after she'd passed out – after their argument about her inability to fall out of love with Eugene, and in love with him. From there, everything remains positively hazy in her mind's eye, only small pockets of consciousness floating in and out of Rapunzel's memory.

Though, she clearly remembers Eugene careening himself down the dock to get to her, and she clearly remembers him not being able to.

Maybe it was better this way. Everyone was angry with her for her recent behavior, after all. Charles, her parents… _herself_. Probably even Eugene, secretly. He was probably upset with her most of all: upset with her for not just _running away with him_ like she should've. He was probably upset with her for not listening to him when she and Charles had first gotten married – when, the night immediately after her nuptials, she had fallen back into his bed with him. Sure, Eugene was a consenting adult, and sure, he was completely capable of making his own decisions. But Rapunzel hadn't made it easy for him to say no. She'd _known_ that he wouldn't be able to say no to her, because he never really had. And if she would've just done the right thing from the very beginning, she wouldn't have drug them headfirst into this mess.

Running away with Eugene has never looked as good as it does right now, when it's no longer an option at all, and Rapunzel has never hated herself more for not doing something before it had become too late.

Sure, it would've been wrong to leave her parents again, would have been wrong to deprive her kingdom of the princess which they'd only just gotten back. But if she would've simply left with Eugene, they wouldn't be in this situation now. She wouldn't be on a ship with Charles. She would probably be in Eugene's arms, which sounds infinitely better.

_Eugene_.

She really should've listened to him. She should've known that this all had been a very, _very_ bad idea. But how could she walk away from him? How could she move on? How could she accept that she couldn't have him? She couldn't. As she'd told her parents, Rapunzel only had an affair with Eugene because her heart simply couldn't handle _not_ doing it. Her heart couldn't handle being without him. And maybe that makes her heart weak, but she doesn't really care. She'd be weak to be with him.

She'd be weak without him.


	24. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, we meet again, my lovely readers! Here I am, offering to you yet another installment of Killing Me Slowly. I'm so, so incredibly sorry for the wait on this chapter. I've been feeling really overwhelmed with school, and work, and life lately, and… yeah. It's just been a lot. But I'm back!
> 
> I've also started a one-shot collection – which is directly connected to this story – called 'The Lost Year,' which basically explores different situations which New Dream may have found themselves in during that first year spent together: the year which was basically skipped over for the purpose of the plot here. I feel that these one-shots really add a lot of depth to this story, and to New Dream's relationship, so consider checking it out if you have the time! Regardless, please don't worry. I haven't forgotten about Killing Me Slowly, and I never will. School has been very overwhelming lately, but this is my favorite project to work on in the entire world. It's my stress relief, and I need to make time for this form of self-care, and I will try harder to update more frequently again (I have a bit of writer's guilt for not updating in over a month, if you can't tell).
> 
> Our featured song today is Savin' Me by Nickelback. Okay, I know that there are some mixed opinions on this band in our contemporary society, but I grew up listening to them constantly. They make me think of my dad, and often, of New Dream. So, here we are. The song Savin' Me just fit really well with the current situation of the story (and even with the events of the movie, honestly). There are quite a few Nickelback songs that just feel very… Eugene Fitzherbert to me, like How You Remind Me, for example. That song has him written all over it.
> 
> I apologize for the long author's note today. I know that you guys have probably been waiting for this chapter, and again, I'm sorry. This time around, we'll get to hear from a character who we haven't directly heard from yet in this story! Are you ready? (Well, I'm grabbing your hand whether you're ready or not). Come on, this will be fun.

**Chapter 23: Cupid's Not the Only One with Arrows**

Lance Strongbow is no stranger to a prison cell.

He'd spent a completely unglamorous chunk of his life being arrested for a few weeks at a time (or even a few _months_ , depending on the particular offense), only to be released and guiltlessly start the vicious cycle all over again – mostly because thieving was his only means of survival, and Lance didn't exactly have time to waste battling with a guilty conscience.

When his conscience was battling against a grumbling stomach, the grumbling stomach typically won out.

It wasn't that he was a bad person or anything. Okay, so Lance's moral compass wasn't completely stagnant. But could one really blame him, given his unsatisfactory upbringing? It wasn't that he particularly _liked_ spending time in prison, or that he particularly enjoyed stealing in order to fill his stomach. Prison often translated into mildew-infested living spaces, bitterly cold nights, and general loneliness. Lance Strongbow – or, more accurately, Arnwaldo Schnitz (but he doesn't like to talk about that) – had simply been dealt a hand of cards which were entirely unideal, the unluckiest of the draw, and his record with outrunning the law wasn't entirely impressive.

His record of stealing impressive shit that didn't belong to him? Worthy of praise and pride. His ability to keep himself out of prison? Now, that was shaky at best.

Really, Eugene – or, more accurately, Flynn Rider – had always been a bit more successful when it came to actually _evading_ arrest. In contrast, Lance wasn't quite so quick on his feet, or quite so effective at grade-A bullshitting someone with his pure sweet talk. But did _that_ stop Lance from pursuing an exciting life of adventure and crime?

No, of course not. A guy down on his luck has to survive somehow.

Speaking of _Eugene_ , Lance has been cursing his best friend's name for about an hour now, shuffling around in a dark prison cell on the second floor of the palace prison, wishing that Eugene would've just listened to his advice this _one time_.

What had he told Eugene? Lance had warned him, had practically _begged_ his dearest friend to walk away from the princess before shit had the chance to truly hit the fan – before Eugene would get really, really hurt, and get himself tangled up in a situation that he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of. Lance didn't want to see that happen. The burly ex-convict had warned his childhood partner-in-crime that starting an affair with the newly-wedded princess would be an entirely nuclear idea. Lance had warned Eugene – had _warned him_ the morning after Lance had essentially gotten _no sleep_ , because he'd spent the previous night listening to the princess get her brains fucked out by someone who wasn't her husband –

It didn't matter. It didn't matter _why_ it was stupid, it just mattered that it was. And for once, Lance had been entirely right.

All of these royal rules and regulations, Lance had quickly come to learn as a result of his time in the castle, were not something to be fucked around with. The endless rules, the impossible expectations, the tight schedules… it was all _bullshit_ , as far as Lance was concerned. They (namely, the council) took that shit _seriously_ , and one misstep could send your neck straight for the gallows.

Although the princess is sweet, and kind, and lovely, and although Lance has always understood how much Eugene loves her – more than Lance has ever seen Eugene love anyone, even himself – Lance just couldn't quite wrap his head around the notion that Eugene was always so willing to potentially lose his neck for her, time and time again.

Rapunzel is a great girl. Really, she is. She's gorgeous, and youthful, and clever, and exuberates a special kind of natural warmth – the kind of warmth which is usually only attributed to mothers. With lack of a better term, the princess kind of feels like sunshine upon your face – and maybe that's why Eugene has all of those silly, little nicknames for her. Before Prince Charles, before the arranged marriage, before everything went to shit… Eugene had it absolutely _made_ , because someone like Rapunzel loved him. And as much as Lance hadn't wanted to admit it, when he'd first arrived at the palace, he'd been a little _jealous_ of Eugene's unwavering devotion to Rapunzel, mostly because Lance simply didn't understand it then. For a while, Lance had just wanted his friend back.

He'd wanted the person that he'd _thought_ his friend had been, but no longer was.

Essentially, Eugene Fitzherbert was a lucky son-of-a-bitch: a son-of-a-bitch who struck absolute gold in the form of a princess with more money than she would ever know what to do with. Lance had thought so from the very moment that he'd coerced his way into the castle, hoping that good old Flynn Rider might help a buddy out a little – Lance having been fresh out of the big house, and having heard the rumors that Flynn Rider was now _living_ in said castle. Lance had sauntered into the situation, fully prepared to come face-to-face with his swindling, manipulative, _and expertly criminal_ oldest companion.

After all, Flynn Rider of all people couldn't _possibly_ have _changed_ for the princess, couldn't possibly have shed that painfully selfish skin of his. There had been no plausible explanation as to why Flynn _really_ would've fallen headfirst into pathetic puppy love, or why he would have any real motive for sticking around an eighteen-year-old kid – aside from gaining access into the castle in order to steal something very, _very_ valuable, of course.

Because Lance Strongbow knew firsthand (or, at the very least, Lance had _thought_ that he did): Flynn Rider didn't change for anyone.

It had all made perfect sense – all of the swirling rumors about Flynn Rider rescuing and falling for the newly-returned princess – and Eugene's sudden luck had inspired Lance to concoct a perfect plan of his own. Lance had been eager to reunite with his childhood partner-in-crime after a few years (or was it more than a few? It's surprisingly easy to lose track of time when you thieve for a living) of living their own, respective lives: a few years post-leaving-Stalyan-at-the-altar. Lance had been eager to discover whether or not his dearest friend was willing to _share_ a piece of that sudden luck.

It made perfect sense that Eugene (or Flynn, as Lance had still thought him to be at the time), would simply _pretend_ to fall in love with the princess, if only to get into the castle to take another crack at making his millions and getting that island that he'd always wanted. And, while he had the opportunity sitting right there in the palm of his hand, why not _bed_ a princess, too?

That was _definitely_ something that Flynn Rider would do.

But, as it would turn out, the princess _herself_ was the very valuable thing in which Flynn Rider had his once-so-selfish eye on. And when Lance actually met the princess, and realized that Flynn wasn't… well, he wasn't exactly _Flynn_ anymore, Lance had essentially been convinced by said princess to stick around and change his own thieving ways.

At first, Lance had bluntly accused Eugene of being a sorry sap, especially for going back to _that_ name: the name which had once stood for nothing more than the lonely helplessness and depression of growing up as an orphan. That name – _Eugene_ – had stood for a grumbling stomach, and dust-covered floors, and a leaking roof, and looking after the younger kids because no one else would. There had been a time when Eugene had done everything in his power _not_ to be Eugene anymore. The notion that he genuinely wanted to go by a name which stood for a childhood so traumatic, was absolutely _absurd_.

But the more that Lance actually got to know the princess, the more that he understood the reason as to why Eugene had felt so inclined – so _determined_ – to prove to her that he was worthy of change, and worthy of a second chance: to prove that he was worthy of being with her. Rapunzel was special like that. Her goodness made you want to be good, too. And although the princess wasn't perfect – and although Lance had promised himself that he wouldn't fall headfirst into the sorry-sap rabbit hole that Eugene had found himself so deep in – Lance had quickly found himself tumbling into that princess-induced trap called _change_.

The princess was especially effective when it came to inspiring you to second guess the person that you've been – but not in an intentional, malicious way. No, not at all. The princess, through the way that she treats and cares for others, wordlessly has the power to make you question if who you've been is really the best version of you, and what you could do differently to _be_ that best version. Needless to say, Lance hadn't held a steady job, well, _ever_ – at least, not before he'd been convinced to settle down in the castle. He had the princess to thank for that, and for his change of heart, no matter how subtle. Rapunzel, albeit blindly, had spoken on his behalf to the king and queen, determined not to be wrong about trusting Lance to stay in their home without causing any trouble.

Lance will admit (and he has to Eugene, many times in the last several months), he does still experience fleeting days in which he misses the fast-paced life of thievery: not having a schedule or rules to adhere by, not having someone to answer to. But castle life _definitely_ has its perks, and once again being at the side of his childhood best friend was the greatest perk of them all.

That is, until shit hit the fan, and everything went completely sideways. That is, until Rapunzel was forced to marry a foreign, asshole of a prince. Said prince assumedly wasn't very good in bed, and assumedly wasn't enough like Eugene to satisfy her heart and her desires (not that Lance could really blame the princess for this – his friend was a total catch, and Charles was, well… _Charles_ ). And then – oh, _then_ – said prince had found _out_ about Eugene's little affair with the princess. The prince had found out, _just_ as Lance had verbally predicted was bound to happen sooner or later.

But Lance isn't one for saying _'I told you so.'_

That childhood best friend of his can be a real, lovesick idiot sometimes. But Lance isn't one to rub such things in when Eugene is already down for the count, his sudden good luck snatched from him so abruptly, so _cruelly_. Lance shakes his head, pacing the lowly-lit prison cell which has been his home for the last week or so. Honestly, he's lost all sense of time, the days inevitably blurring together completely. How long has it been since he'd first been placed into this dank cell? A week? Two weeks? Lance wonders where that lovesick best friend of his is right about now. If he knew, and if he had an effective way of getting _out_ of this damn cell, Lance would probably knock some sense into Eugene for essentially being the reason that he was haphazardly shoved into the cell in the first place.

Flynn Rider never would've let something like this happen. Oh, no. Good old, selfish-as-sin Flynn Rider _never_ would've even let things come _close_ to getting this out of hand. Mostly because Flynn Rider was the kind of guy who epically escaped a marriage that he hadn't wanted to be a part of. Flynn Rider was the kind of guy who fucked whatever girl he'd wanted, leaving her high and dry before the sun came up, no strings left hanging. He'd effectively gotten his dick wet, sure, more than most men that Lance had known (more than _him_ ).

But Flynn Rider didn't get _attached_.

Flynn Rider was the kind of guy who could get himself into a bar fight, sweet talk his way out of it, and walk away with minimal injuries. Flynn Rider was the kind of guy who stole the coveted Lost Princess's crown, committing Grand Theft Treason with virtually no guilt sticking to his money-driven, thrill-seeking conscience whatsoever. That is, until he'd _found_ said Lost Princess, and guilt became a frequent, pesky emotion clinging to his newly-found, _Eugene_ -driven conscience. Regardless, Flynn Rider was _not_ the kind of guy who stuck around for some girl, only to watch her be married off to another man – even if said girl _is_ pretty great, completely loaded, and royal-blooded.

But Eugene Fitzherbert is.

Eugene Fitzherbert _is_ that kind of guy, because Eugene Fitzherbert has a _heart_. A big one, dripping with sappy emotions, and endless devotion, and the deep desire to _stay_. He has a heart that's always been a little too big for his own good, and a little too full of a particular princess who seems to have a thing for getting kidnapped. Eugene Fitzherbert is the kind of guy who stays, the kind of guy who holds you tight and shelters you from the storm raging outside of your window. He is the kind of guy who loves you so much, that you fear for your heart, desperate to believe that you will never have to know a world without him – and maybe that's why Rapunzel hadn't been strong enough to let go.

Even if letting go would have kept Eugene from getting hurt.

Lance doesn't _want_ to be angry with the princess. It isn't that Lance doesn't like the princess, because he does – he always has – and it isn't that he blames her for any of this. Not at all. Rapunzel hadn't _chosen_ to be married off to an arrogant asshole of a prince, hadn't chosen to be treated as though she were nothing more than a pawn in the ruthless game of the Coronan council. She hadn't chosen to fall so far in love with Eugene that her heart was too full of him to make room for anyone else.

It seemed to Lance that Rapunzel hadn't chosen a lot of what had happened to her in her nineteen years.

In addition to getting taken away from her home, the girl apparently had a thing for attracting arrogant men, too. But at least Flynn Rider had essentially been nothing more than a well-crafted façade, masking a man of true integrity, unconditional love, and the desire to change for the better. Charles, on the other hand, was following the truth of his true nature right down to its core, the pure maliciousness weeping from him so obviously.

Frankly, Lance isn't quite sure _who_ to be the most angry with, questioning if it's even worth anything for him to be angry at all – what with his best friend's heart on the line. Being angry won't change that, and being angry won't get him out of this cell. And regardless of who Lance believes _should_ take the blame for this fucked up situation, he doesn't appreciate being haphazardly thrown into a prison cell by a group of strange, darkly-dressed men – not when he'd done essentially nothing to deserve it but foreworn Eugene of a consequence like this. Lance doesn't appreciate this abrupt, uncalled for lack of comfort, _especially_ when he'd warned Eugene – more than once – that something like _this_ would happen if he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

Oh, Eugene had done a great job at that, keeping his dick in his pants. Really, he'd held out with the princess for a _whole_ lot longer than Lance would've assumed to be humanly possible. Honestly, when Lance had initially met the bubbly, slightly naïve, entirely _trusting_ princess, he'd wholeheartedly assumed that Eugene was already reaping every benefit of the entire situation. But no, he wasn't, and Lance had been utterly surprised by his friend's impressive ability to hold out. This whole 'waiting game' which Eugene had found himself apparently trapped in, was just another example of a selfless sacrifice which the ever-selfish Flynn Rider _never_ would've made, and just another situation which proved how much Eugene truly cared about Rapunzel – which proved how much he didn't want to fuck things up with her.

That being _with_ her – that instilling a love-driven longevity in their relationship, rather than a fast-paced, lust-driven end – was more important than being in bed with her. And for a while, all was beautiful in the world: it was all rose-colored glasses, and sunshine and rainbows, and Lance was a little grossed out by all of it. But his best friend was sickeningly happy, and that was all that mattered.

But then – _then_ – the princess had to go and get _married_ to the damn prince who had arrived by complete surprise to all of them, and all hell had broken loose. That grand, horrific event had seemed to pivot Eugene's sex life, and his inability to stay away from Rapunzel was inevitably shot through the roof, his ability to hold out any longer sent straight to hell. If the princess was the sunshine, Eugene was a plant, incapable of surviving without her touch, and essentially dependent on her presence in his life to keep him from wilting away completely. As a result, Lance had spent one-too-many nights listening to Eugene's headboard hit the wall. Sometimes, Lance would hear the princess's little, bare feet padding down the hallway past his bedroom door late in the evening, and he would just _know_ that he was in for a long night.

And maybe _that's_ why Lance is so grumpy about the whole thing now: it isn't just about the prison cell. It isn't just about Eugene's inability to heed Lance's well-guided warnings, or Eugene's rejection of Lance's grand idea that they return to their lives of thievery together. It's about Lance's lack of sleep, and his general jealousy over not getting laid nearly as much as Eugene.

But mostly, Lance has tumbled headfirst into this sour mood because he'd explicitly _warned_ Eugene about shit hitting the fan like this.

Then again, just as Eugene had so bluntly pointed out to his dear friend, Lance has never been in love. Meaning, he could never _truly_ understand why Eugene is doing all of this: namely, why he is so hell-bent on sticking around through this absolute mess of a situation, when Flynn Rider would've made a run for it _ages_ ago. Lance couldn't understand, and wouldn't understand, not unless he fell in love for himself.

But love is for suckers, as far as Lance Strongbow is concerned. Love only gets you into trouble. And regardless of how accustomed he is to getting into trouble, Lance doesn't have the capacity (nor the time) for the kind of heart-shattering trouble which love so often drags a person headfirst into. Honestly, Lance isn't entirely sure that he ever will – not after watching how much this _true love_ stuff has absolutely shattered his friend and his entire life.

Eugene and Lance are completely different in that way. Regardless of Flynn Rider's overtly masculine ego and lack of attachment to the many young women in which he would take to bed with him, the little orphan Eugene Fitzherbert inside of him had yearned _desperately_ for love – _true_ love. Even if Eugene never would've admitted it aloud at the time, Lance could see it clearly in his friend's eyes, could picture the child from the orphanage lurking there behind his brown irises. Eugene had so badly wanted to be loved, to be adored, and to be _accepted_ for who he was – not for who he was when he was following the identity of a made-up character from a damn book, but for who he was in his truest form. Even in their youth, Eugene had yearned for the kind of love that makes you feel sick, and makes you forget your own name, and generally just makes you feel like you're losing your mind and all sense of reality.

It was this make-you-feel-out-of-your-mind kind of love which Eugene had wanted so badly. And for a while, he'd falsely believed that he'd found it with Stalyan. But he'd been wrong, and he'd only yearned for it all the more as a result, and had _suppressed_ that yearning all the more after leaving her – it was the kind of love that Flynn Rider had simply accepted that he would never be worthy of.

It was the kind of pure, real love that Eugene had with Rapunzel, before it had all blown up in their faces. She made him forget his own name (quite literally), and made him feel worthy, and made him love her so much that he lost all sense of reality – enough to believe that carrying out an affair with her, with her psycho husband lurking over their shoulders, would be a good idea.

Lance Strongbow prefers to have his head screwed on straight, thank you very much.

The dear friends could've made out real good, if they'd wanted to. The moment that the princess had gotten hitched, Eugene and Lance could've taken a few valuables from the castle and high-tailed their asses out of Corona. It would've been just like old times: all drinking late into the night, and picking up willing, young women who had a thing for rebellious, handsome men, and the fast-paced, unpredictable adventure which could only come with being a thief. They could be _anywhere_ by now, living the good life! If they'd played their cards right when leaving the castle, they even could've gotten that island that Eugene had always wanted.

But Eugene didn't seem to give much of a shit about that island anymore. He gave a shit about the princess, and lately, that was pretty much it.

And where is Lance now? _In a damn prison cell._ And it's not hard for Lance to assume that Eugene probably is, too, if not _strung up in the gallows._ Lance silently prays that this isn't the case, but he's not willing to put much of _anything_ past Prince Charles at this point. The guy seems a little off-kilter (or, more bluntly, a _lot_ off-kilter), and entirely used to getting whatever he wants, exactly when he wants it.

And he'd wanted Rapunzel, alright: had wanted her in a way that was painfully opposite of the way that Eugene had wanted her. The way in which Eugene had wanted – the way in which he _wants_ – her… it's _pure_. It's not money, lust, or politically driven, the desire that he has for her. The way in which Eugene wants Rapunzel, had once included the dream-like visions of a white dress, and children which would be the product of true love, and a long, beautiful life together.

What Charles wants from her, is something different entirely. From Rapunzel, Charles seeks only power, control, and a crown resting comfortably upon his ego-inflated head. In his limited presence, this had becoming increasingly obvious to Lance. Charles' desire for Rapunzel began and ended with a few, simple things: it began with a crown, which led to getting his dick wet, which led to successors for said crown. This is where Charles' use for the princess ended, and his need to treat her respectfully ended right along with it. And sure, Eugene's desire for Rapunzel had been triggered by wanting a crown, too, but it didn't _end_ that way.

It would never end that way. Eugene would give up millions in selfish profit for Rapunzel, would give up his _life_ for her. Charles, her own husband, couldn't say the same.

And the princess deserves far more than that: far more than someone simply using her for what she could offer, rather than truly _loving_ her. In Lance's humble opinion, it appeared as though she had gone through enough of _that_ for one lifetime. Lance doesn't know a whole lot about love, but he knows enough to acknowledge that whatever Rapunzel has with Charles, isn't it – _especially_ not when comparing their politically-induced, arranged relationship to what the princess had once found with Eugene.

What they'd found together, before Charles had taken it into his greedy hands and lost it.

It's a little eerie, the whole thing: the way that a group of strange men had drug Lance into the prison building while he'd been dressing for guard duty that evening about a week ago. It's eerie, the way that none of his coworkers are anywhere to be found, let alone the king and queen. Lance has spent the majority of the entire past week wondering just what _hell_ is going on, and how much of it had been planned by their dear friend, Charles.

Lance's eyes snap away from the dirty floor of his prison cell when a crack of light floods through the long, narrow hallway, the door at the end of the hall swinging open abruptly. One of the quiet men dressed in black saunters to Lance's cell, heavy boots tromping loudly upon the cobblestone hallway, shoving a small loaf of bread through the bars and watching as the loaf tumbles to the ground. This man is new and fresh-faced – not the tired-looking, middle-aged man which had been bringing Lance his meals previously.

"Breakfast is served." The young man grinds blankly, eyes completely devoid of all emotion, voice lacking any sense of humor.

Lance drags his own booted feet forward on the dusty floor, wrapping his fingers around the cold, cell bars, peering through the dim, early-morning light to study the man's youthful face. The eyes of the seasoned thief are abruptly intrigued by a glimmer from the man's pocket as he turns away, silvery metal catching the rays of the rising sun: _a set of keys._

_Bingo._

"Aw. Would it kill ya to smile a little, buddy?" Shooting the young man a toothy grin, Lance pushes his face through the bars as well as he can, analyzing his expression for a shift, for a response of any kind.

"Keep your mouth shut." The unnamed man responds gruffly, turning to glare at Lance with dark, narrowed eyes, pointing a steady finger at him. "I didn't give you the permission to speak."

"Do you talk to your mother with that mouth?" Lance snickers, silently praying that the man will continue to edge closer to the cell bars. "Geez. Something stiff is up _your_ ass this morning."

The man bares his teeth, stepping close to Lance's face – a reaction which Lance had hoped for.

"You don't speak about my mother. You don't speak _at all_."

 _So, he_ _**can** _ _be provoked, huh?_

"And yet, here I am, chatting away with a fine young man like yourself."

The man shakes his head, keys glinting from his pocket as Lance tries his best not to stare at them for too long, silently announcing his true intention.

"You cocky son-of-a-bitch. I said, shut –"

"Now, you're going to listen to _me_." Lance reaches through the bars suddenly, the now-caught-off-guard man having edged close enough to remain in his harsh grasp. He snatches the young man by the front of the shirt with both hands, his tight, iron-like grip causing the boy to struggle and thrash about immediately, his heavy boots shuffling on the dirty cobblestones.

" _Ugh!_ Let me _go!_ _Help!_ Hel –"

"That'll be enough of that." The burly, former thief grins, covering the young man's mouth with a steady hand, looking him straight in the bewildered eye. "Give me your keys."

"Mmm!" The dark-eyed man shakes his head rapidly, eyes wide, knowing deep in his bones that _he'd fucked up._

"I said, give me your _fucking_ keys!" Lance demands between gritted teeth, the easy grin falling from his face, replaced with a look of pure intimidation. " _Now_."

The young boy grumbles something incoherent (which sounds a little bit like _fuck_ ), behind the pressure of Lance's strong hand over his mouth. Fumbling with shaky fingers to reach into his pocket, the boy tugs the jingling set of keys from it and holds them reluctantly up, allowing them to catch the morning sunlight once more. With a secure grip still grasping onto the front of the boy's shirt, Lance snatches the keys from between the cell bars, a proud, satisfied smile returning to his face.

"I'll take that."

Still holding the young man's shirt with one hand, Lance struggles momentarily to open the prison cell door, finally pushing it open, just enough for his tall body to squeeze through. Pocketing the set of keys for later, Lance – with a moderate level of guilt – sends a mean right hook to the side of the unsuspecting boy's head, causing him to fall to the floor like a heavy sack of potatoes. Snickering quietly to himself, Lance releases his grip of the young man's shirt through the cell bars, watching the boy fall, noticing that he'd flattened the small loaf of bread underfoot in the struggle.

_It's about time that I got myself out of that damn cell. Now… Eugene. I've gotta find Eugene._

With quick, quiet steps and trained, perked ears, Lance trots down the eerie hallway, which is now bathed in sunlight as the sun begins to rise over the kingdom, glittering upon the harbor through the narrow windows of the dank prison. Swinging the heavy, wooden door at the end of the hallway open, Lance is met with a cold, stone stairwell, which he quickly rushes down, praying to the heavens that another darkly-dressed man – or an entire _group_ of them, similar to the group of men which had harshly shoved him into that prison cell in the first place – won't come upon him unexpectedly.

Reaching the end of the stone stairwell, Lance is met with the wide door which leads to the main level of the prison, a small window near the top of the door allowing Lance to be alerted to one of those darkly-dressed men standing there, guarding the entryway. Taking a heavy, preparatory breath, Lance whips the wooden door open abruptly, swinging at the man's head from behind, watching triumphantly as the man is sent careening to the cobblestone floor, overtaken by the sheer surprise of Lance's brute strength.

Some shuffling down the main hallway of the prison ensues as Lance ensures that the darkly-dressed man is going to remain unmoving long enough for him to investigate. The former thief squints in the dim, early-morning sun, edging forward as a pair of white-knuckled hands wrap around the bars of a nearby cell.

" _Lance?_ Lance, is that you?" The low voice tentatively breaks the eerie silence of the prison hallway, echoing a curious mixture of alarm and relief against the stone walls.

A wide grins breaks upon Lance's face as he rushes forward, immediately recognizing the kind, brown eyes, neatly trimmed goatee, and broad shoulders of his dearest friend, even in the dingy lighting.

"Hey, buddy!"

"Lance!"

Reaching into the deep pocket of his guard uniform, Lance fumbles to find the set of recently-acquired keys, holding them up in the dim light with a proud expression plastered across his face. Lance is entirely relieved to see Eugene in a prison cell similar to his, and not strung up in the gallows as Lance had feared for the majority of the past week.

"Look what I got."

Lance dangles the keys in front of Eugene's face jokingly, soon after registering the shuffling of another pair of feet behind Eugene before his best friend can answer. The faces of the two men fall abruptly as an unimpressed Cassandra reveals herself from the shadows, casually inspecting her fingernails.

"Hmm. Who would've thought that _you,_ of all people, would _actually_ come in handy for once?" Cassandra comments nonchalantly, causing Eugene to roll his eyes through the cell bars, placing his forehead against them defeatedly as the lady-in-waiting shoots a pointed glare in Eugene's direction. " _Fitzidiot_ over here sure hasn't."

"Get me the fuck out of here."

Eugene whispers quietly, only loud enough for Lance to hear the desperate request, causing Lance to chuckle softly as he notices with relief that the king and queen have also emerged from the dark shadows of the prison cell, leaving him feeling just as glad to see them unharmed – well, _physically_ unharmed.

Emotionally… now, _that's_ another story.

After fumbling with the keys for a few moments, Lance steps back, opening the cell door wide enough for the group of four to step through, guided by the looks of momentary solace washing upon their faces as they experience freedom for the first time in a week.

Eyeing Eugene closely, Lance furrows his eyebrows with a newly-returned irritation: the irritation which had plagued him for a week in that stupid prison cell. An irritation which, in reality, is really more so _worry_ for the people that he cares about than anything else. An irritation which desperately yearns for someone to blame for the heartbreaking expression which Eugene is currently showcasing. Though, this irritation of Lance's absolutely melts once more, taken in by the unforgiving hands of the defeated look gracing his best friend's face now. Eugene is so clearly exhausted – assumedly having not slept at all – and shattered in heart, and _lost_. And Lance has never seen him quite so defeated; not even on Rapunzel's wedding day.

Not even in the orphanage.

"The princess?" Lance dares to ask, words tentative upon his lips. He doesn't want to hear the answer – a horrible, unwelcomed answer which he can assume well enough on his own.

"She's gone. The bastard took her." Shaking his head solemnly, Eugene's facial expression shifts from utterly shameful, to an undeniable rage, harsh anger churning like a suddenly-lit forest fire burning behind his amber irises as they stare Lance straight in the eye. "I had to watch her go. The fucker made sure that I would have to _watch_."

"I'm so sorry, buddy." It's clear to Lance how racked with anxiety his best friend truly is, prompting him to lean forward, slapping Eugene's shoulder encouragingly. "But don't you worry that perfect head of hair! We'll get her back."

"Alright, I'm glad that you two lovebirds could have this little _reunion_. But if we're going to get Rapunzel, we need a game plan – a _real_ game plan. Not sheer luck that we won't get caught out of this cell." Cassandra steps forward, her harsh glare darting between the two men. "We can't go into this blind, and we can't go into this without thinking it through a little. We have no idea how many of those guys are out there or lurking around the castle, and we have no idea where Rapunzel even _is_ right now. It's been a week! We can assume that he took her to Maddoline, but really, she could be anywhere by now!"

"Cassandra is right. We need a plan before we can move forward any further. A solid one." Frederic strokes his beard thoughtfully, speaking for the first time since Lance had arrived and opened the cell door. The stoic king thinks for a long moment, turning to his wife with a stern, determined expression, paying no mind to the three worried, young people staring at him, awaiting direction. "Arianna, you and I will get to a ship, and –"

"Freddy, sweetheart… I think we should let the children handle this." Arianna wrings her hands subtly, as though she were incredibly nervous to suggest such a thing to her worried husband – her husband, who is clearly being ripped apart at the seams, trying so very hard to keep his composure in such a horrific situation as their daughter being kidnapped for a _second_ time.

"You… you think that we should _what?_ " Frederic blinks hard, shaking his head, entirely incapable of processing his wife's seemingly-ridiculous suggestion, staring at her as though the queen has lost all sense of reality. "This is Rapunzel that we're talking about! Our _daughter._ Do you really think that we can just sit back and do _nothing?_ We've already lost her once –"

"Honey… I think that our home has clearly been infiltrated, and that we need to take it back. We need to take this _kingdom_ back. If we hadn't been so complacent to the council for so long now, perhaps none of this would have _happened to her._ What sense is there in trying to find Rapunzel if she doesn't even have a home to come back to?"

In spite of her hard tone, Arianna places a delicate hand to her temple, wincing as if a pain has shot through her forehead suddenly.

"As much as I want to go, and as much as I want to see her face as soon as physically possible, we need to hold down the fort here." Arianna reaches forward to pat her husband's shoulder now, a grim expression etched across the soft face – her face which resembles Rapunzel's so painfully. "We have no choice. That is our job. That is what we promised to do. We don't even know what's going on out there! Our people could need us _here_."

"But… but she's our _child!_ To hell with the people!" Frederic throws up his hands in a misplaced frustration toward his wife, his raised voice echoing against the prison walls, haunting the eerie hallway. " _She_ needs us! She will need –"

Arianna sighs heavily, taking her husband's distraught face into her small hands, forcing Frederic to look her in the eye, murmuring to him quietly.

"She needs _him_." Arianna looks back to Eugene who has quietly been looking on, arms crossed against his chest. "I think we need to let Eugene be the one to do this."

In response to his wife's otherwise understandable proposal, Frederic dares to steal a glance toward Eugene, a furrowed expression crossing the king's face, not having said much to the younger man all week. It's been made entirely clear that the king is a bit pissed off (or, more likely, a _lot_ pissed off) at Eugene for the whole thing, and having an even harder time looking at him lately.

And honestly, Eugene really doesn't blame him. Frederic has spoken only a handful of sentences to him in the past week, and the majority of them weren't exactly peppered with praise – or, at the very least, these few-and-far-between comments weren't even graced by the general comradery which the two men had procured between them in the last year and a half.

More often than not, Frederic had simply taken to stealing sideways glares of disappointment at Eugene in the prison cell, and that was that.

"I think that if it weren't for Eugene, our daughter wouldn't be _in_ this mess." Frederic narrows his eyes further, his voice cold and hallowed out by the pure bitterness of his tone.

This blunt, harsh comment causes Lance and Cassandra's eyebrows to simultaneously rise in shock, though Eugene's own expression remains just as stoic as the king's, seemingly unsurprised – unsurprised, as though Eugene had seen this conversation coming all along. As though he had been anticipating a tongue-lashing from the man who he'd once believed to be his future father-in-law.

The queen pushes her own, dark eyebrows together, suddenly retreating her hands from her husband's face, as if his skin has unexpectedly burned her fingertips. As if the accusatory comment were directed toward her, and not Eugene.

"I think that you are speaking from your stress, Frederic, and not from your _heart_. And I think that if it weren't for _us_ , and for _our_ thoughtless, selfish actions nineteen years ago, Rapunzel wouldn't have been married to this insane man in the first place!" Arianna shoots back, unwilling to allow Eugene – someone who she has come to think of as her child just as much as Rapunzel – to completely take the fall for this unfortunate circumstance.

"But we did not know better at the time, darling! We were just trying to do what was best for our daughter, for this _kingdom!_ " Frederic motions to Eugene with a shaking hand, his obvious frustration with the man that he'd once regarded like a child of his own, as well, coming to a bitter head. "But _he_ knew better! He knew that… that his _behavior_ could put our daughter in serious danger! And now it has!"

"Frederic, stop this _right now_." Arianna looks up at her husband warningly, green eyes flashing, daring him to go on. "This is Eugene that we're talking about. He is like our _son_. We know how much he loves her! He never would've wanted this –"

"We know what he wanted from her."

Arianna shakes her head in disgusted disbelief, taking a visible step back, edging closer to the ex-thief as if to physically protect Eugene from the king's harsh words. Her voice shakes as the queen stares at him, completely shocked by her husband's sudden brutality – a brutality which has been bubbling just below the surface, desperate to boil over during the course of the past week spent in the prison cell together.

"Frederic… Frederic, I _know_ that you did not just suggest –"

His own eyes narrowed, trying their best to shield the hurt welling within them now, Eugene's gaze darts between the king and queen.

Eugene is entirely appreciative of Arianna's quick willingness to defend him, but knows that he doesn't deserve it. Not anymore. Even though Eugene doesn't want to admit it, Frederic poses a completely valid point, and the queen shouldn't have to take the brunt of Frederic's anger toward him. This – this _mess_ which they've found themselves in – it _is_ Eugene's fault. He knows that, and he's not afraid to say so. He's spent each night for the past week lying wide awake, blaming himself.

Blaming himself for her not being here, safe in her bed.

"Arianna, its okay –"

"No, son, it's _not_ okay!" Frederic bellows as Eugene attempts to reach out to Arianna in gratitude, causing Lance to jump. "Because of you, my daughter…" The king takes a heavy breath, struggling to maintain a calm composure. "My sweet, precious daughter, who has already gone through this once… has been taken _again!_ Because you wanted her crown, because you wanted her… her _innocence!"_

 _"Frederic."_ Arianna steps forward sternly, her green eyes narrowing violently at her husband in a way which Eugene has never seen her glare at him before.

Or _anyone_ , for that matter.

"Why don't you tell me how you really feel, Sir?" Eugene clenches his jaw – hard – not breaking eye contact with the king, his words dripping with an offended sarcasm. "Why don't you tell me how you really feel about me, after you _asked me_ to stay!"

When the king doesn't have an immediate response to offer to him, Eugene allows his own, strained voice to raise against the stone walls of the prison – ironically, the same prison which Frederic had, over a year ago now, readily signed for Eugene's life to end in. Eugene allows the pain and anger of the last week – of the last several _months_ – to come rushing from his mouth, sure that he'll be putting his foot in it later.

"Because I'm just a thief, right? I'm just someone who came here with complete ill-intention toward your daughter. It's not like I put my neck on the line for her, to bring her home, not knowing if you would _kill me_ when I got here. It's not like I've worked my _ass_ _off_ to prove to her – to prove to _you_ – how much I've changed! It's not like I wanted to marry her, or give her a beautiful life, or love her as much as I possibly could, before she was married off to an asshole that she'd never even met! Before she was married off like she was just the _fucking property_ of this kingdom, and not a _person_ who has already spent _eighteen years_ being told what to do!"

Eugene holds his crossed arms hard against his quaking chest, willing himself not to thrash his hands about like a frantic idiot as he stares the king down, willing himself to even his hard breathing.

"No, no, Sir. You're _completely_ right. All I wanted from her was the crown and a quick fu –"

" _Eugene_ –" Arianna looks to him pointedly, silently pleading with Eugene not to dig his hole even deeper with her overprotective, quick-tempered husband.

But Eugene is on a resentful roll now, already six-feet-under, and not even the mutual glare of the king is enough to clean up – or, better yet, to _stop_ – his word vomit.

"And what happened to the whole _'We won't get anywhere if we remain angry with one another'_ spiel?" Eugene finishes, cheeks bursting with color, the emotional mercury in his body threatening to finally explode after four, agonizing months without Rapunzel. "What happened to the 'we're all in this together' _bullshit?_ "

"I would watch your mouth if I were you, Eugene." Frederic responds quickly, stepping forward, though Arianna effectively blocks his path, causing the king to shake his head at his wife in a betrayed disbelief. "I have _every_ _right_ to be angry with you!"

"Maybe you do. And _believe me_ , Sir, I'm furious with myself!" Eugene brushes past a reluctant Arianna, shaking his head repeatedly in a silent way of begging the king to hear him out. "But I would die for your daughter. I _have_ died for your daughter! If that doesn't prove that I didn't want anything from her when I came here, then I don't know what will. And you know what? I would do it again! I _will_ do it again to get her back into your arms, if that's what I have to do. And if you need someone to blame for all of this, that's fine. I get it. Because I blame myself, too."

Pleading, brown eyes meet enraged, blue ones – both of which now will themselves not to soften under the pressure of the heated moment, but do anyway. Because the men which respectively own each set of these emotion-betrayed eyes, have always come to a mutual agreement: they both love one girl with their entire heart, and this is something that they will always have to share. Frederic and Eugene will always share _her_ , will always have her in common – even in the moments when they do not want to. Even in the tensest of moments.

Moments like right now.

"But please… _please_ believe that I never wanted any of this to happen to her, and please believe that I will do everything in my power to bring her back home." Eugene looks up to Frederic with an expression so pleading that its borderline pathetic. "I brought her back home to you once, didn't I? Can you just trust that I'll bring her home again?"

Frederic looks away curtly, angry tears brimming the corners of his eyes as he studies the delicate, morning sunlight as it pours through the windows lining the prison hallway, _hating_ how much the sunlight reminds him of _her_ – hating that all of this feels so familiar. The king shakes his head, wiping his eyes sharply, desperate to hide any sign of weakness – though, no one would dare hold it against him.

They're all feeling a little weak without her.

"She shouldn't _have_ to be brought home again. She doesn't deserve this, she never did." Frederic clears his throat uncomfortably, still unable to look Eugene directly in the face, eyes fixated instead on the rays of sunlight which bounce upon the prison walls. "None of this should be happening."

"You're right. You're absolutely right." Eugene wills himself not to cry, as well, because he's never seen _the king_ cry before. But the feat proves to be much more difficult than originally anticipated, and despite his best efforts to remain strong – to remain strong _for her_ – Eugene can immediately feel hot tears pricking at his own lashes. "But it is. It _is_ happening. She's gone, and I need to get her, or I'm gonna fucking lose it. So, I'm asking… I'm begging… that you _please_ let me go, Sir."

Unsure of what else to say – unsure of what else could possibly convince Frederic that he's capable of saving her from the grave which they'd effectively dug for themselves – Eugene allows his voice to crack with the emotions which he has rendered himself incapable of keeping bottled up inside any longer. He allows the unforgiving tears to fall, because he's been holding them back for too damn long.

"She'll want me to be the one to get her. _Please_."

Finally looking at him, Frederic sighs heavily, running his hands over his tired, aging face defeatedly.

"Fine. Go." Furrowing his bushy eyebrows together, a reluctant, warning look quickly crosses the king's face. "But I swear, Eugene, if you don't come back with her –"

"I know, I know. You saved a copy of my death warrant, and it's sitting in the top drawer of your desk for a time like this." Eugene mumbles, having already known what Frederic would say – having heard the Overprotective Father Speech enough times in his first six months of living in the castle to know it by heart. "I got it."

"Well, now that _that's_ settled… can we get out of this place already? Maybe get our hands on some weapons?" Cassandra questions impatiently, hands on her hips as she nods toward the door, addressing the lone guard still face down on the floor at its base. "You know, before _he_ wakes up, or before any of his little friends come back to check on us?"

The painfully awkward tension in the sunlight-flooded hallway is completely palpable as Arianna stares the king down, ushering the three younger members of the group toward the door with a motherly air. The queen pauses to address her husband as Eugene, Cassandra, and Lance step quietly over the passed out guard, slipping through the prison's main door.

"Frederic… I am so incredibly disappointed in you right now."

And it's true. Arianna's eyes are flooded, too, just like the hallway has been flooded with balmy sunlight, sharply contrasting the coldness of the prison – flooded with pure _anger_. Frederic is sure that he hasn't seen his wife so visibly upset since the day that they'd lost Rapunzel as a baby, and suddenly, he feels incredibly ashamed.

And maybe, just maybe, that's her _motive_. Maybe that's why Arianna's big, green eyes (eyes that remind him so painfully of his daughter's) are staring at him so menacingly: so that Frederic feels _ashamed_ for the way in which he'd spoken to Eugene just a short time ago. For the way in which he'd spoken to a man who Frederic had once claimed to be like a son to him.

This is the man who had selflessly brought his daughter home to him in the first place, and had expected essentially – _surprisingly_ – nothing in return for it. Not a reward, not a crown, not anything. Just her. That's all that he's ever wanted, for as long as Frederic has known the former thief. And she has always been more than enough for him, that Eugene.

This is the man who Frederic would always feel indebted to. A man who, yes, Frederic _had_ asked to stay, even in the wake of Rapunzel's marriage to Prince Charles. Because this man, he was not only an asset to the palace guard, but his presence… it brought to his daughter an unexplainable, visible peace; a peace which Frederic had never seen in another person before. And for her, Frederic had always wanted just that. _Peace_.

At the time, Frederic had simply been so happy to finally have his child returned safely to his arms, that it hadn't mattered _who_ brought Rapunzel that peace, or who brought her home. He simply knew that, after eighteen years of hell, his daughter deserved as much. It hadn't mattered that Eugene had once been a criminal – _the_ criminal: the criminal to steal his daughter's crown. The crown which was the only symbol of her that Frederic had left to hold onto, the crown which had been preserved as the single shred of hope which followed eighteen years of living in pure agony without her. It hadn't mattered, because Eugene _had_ proved himself. He had proved himself capable of change, and capable of being forgiven.

Capable of loving her so much, that he would lose his mind if anything were to ever happen to her – just the same as Frederic had lost his own mind when she'd been taken from them for the first time. And for this very reason, Eugene and Frederic are much more alike than they seem, and much more alike than either of them would ever be willing to admit.

Eugene _had_ proved himself, just as he'd stated to the king. That much was true. That is, until the inevitable exposal of the entirely _irresponsible_ affair which Eugene had allowed to procure itself right under Frederic's nose. That is, until everything had blown up in their faces, and Eugene's selfish actions had put his daughter in the kind of danger which Frederic had dreamed that she would never have to experience again.

And perhaps, Frederic really can't be angry with Eugene at all. Because if Eugene loves Rapunzel even _half_ as much as Frederic thinks that he does, he can't blame the young man for not being able to stay away from her – for not having the strength to stop loving someone as perfect as her – because _he_ hadn't been able to, not even in her entirely-too-long absence.

For eighteen years, Frederic hadn't been able to stop loving her, either. Because once you loved Rapunzel, you couldn't stop. You couldn't wake up one day and _stop_. It's simply not possible.

But Frederic has always had a bit of a pride problem, so admitting such things aloud isn't going to happen. Not any time soon, at least.

"But, dear –" Frederic insists with his own eyes bared widely to Arianna as she scolds him angrily, though his insistent words are cut off by his wife's steady hand being raised in the air between them.

" _Don't_. Don't you dare."

Just ahead, Eugene pushes through the door of the prison, thankful as he feels the crisp air being sucked into his lungs, the warm sun upon his face for the first time in a week, pausing as the group of five steps into the surprisingly empty prison courtyard. Eugene feels a large hand upon his shoulder suddenly, slapping him supportively. He turns to see Lance standing beside him with a sad, _hopeful_ smile spread across his face.

"Well, buddy… you need to get yourself out of the doghouse, _big time_." Hands on his hips, Lance studies the horizon, squinting his eyes against the bright rays of the sun. "So, what do you say that we go and save that princess of yours?"

* * *

Eugene, Lance, and Cassandra decide to split up for the time being, traveling individually through the castle in the hopes of drawing less attention to themselves, leaving the king and queen to their own devices. They'll need resources, and if the trio intends to make quick passage to Maddoline – which is the most likely place which Charles would have brought Rapunzel – they're going to be on a ship for at _least_ the next week, and that's only on the basis that the weather remains fair. They'll need food, and water, and weapons if they want even the _slightest_ chance at escaping Corona and getting Rapunzel back safely.

There would be no time to find the mysteriously missing palace guards to aid them on this rescue mission (not that they would assumedly be much help, anyway), and there would be no time to be afraid. There would be no time to be selfish, and there would be no time to think about anything other than getting her back home. Frantically, Eugene had wanted to get down to the harbor and hop onto the first ship that they could find, hightailing it to Maddoline territory immediately. But Cassandra had reminded him that setting sail without making at least _some_ preparations beforehand would not only be incredibly stupid, but detrimental to their livelihood, not getting them any closer to saving Rapunzel at all.

So, although Eugene had despised himself for verbally admitting that Cassandra was right, he'd allowed her to make her way alone to the weaponry room, assigning Lance with the task of making _his_ way to the kitchens to pack them enough nonperishable goods for a week or two. Sneaking through the early morning air, Eugene slinks against the stone wall of the castle, entering the looming building through the side door which leads to the vast garden system.

He desperately tries not to think about the maze to his right, all the times that he'd chased her through it, and the night that he'd begged Rapunzel to run away with him in said maze: the night that Charles had thrown a party for her, the night that Stalyan had pinned her to the floor, and the night that all hell had broken loose. Well, when all hell had broken loose, before all hell had _truly_ broken loose.

Eugene had made love to her that night for one of two reasons: because he fucking hates Charles, and because he pathetically loves her. He tries not to think about how beautiful she'd looked that night, and he tries to forgive himself for not being able to convince Rapunzel to leave with him right then, there in the maze. Because if he had, maybe they wouldn't be in this mess at all, and maybe she would be safe.

She still wouldn't be home right now, but at least she would be _safe_ with him.

Eugene tries not to think about the way that she'd promised that she would never love Charles as he'd made love to her, and how Eugene had held that panted promise close to his heart ever since. He tries not to think about how she'd moaned for him, and he tries not to think about how he'd begged her to promise again and again that she would never be capable of loving anyone but him.

He tries not to think about how much he hates himself for even making her say it. And if Eugene would've known then that making love to her that last time, would _be_ the last time, he would've held her in his arms a little tighter, kissed her a little harder, and convinced her to run away with him a little better.

But it doesn't matter, not now. The _only_ thing that matters now, is getting her _back_ into his arms.

Pulling the side door tentatively open, Eugene pokes his head inside the marbled hallway, praying that no one will be lurking about. Thankfully, he's yet to run into one of those strangely dressed men, but he has a sickly feeling that such a confrontation is inevitable. Shutting the door to the gardens behind him quietly, Eugene slips into the eerily empty hallway, his ears expertly perked, as though he were still a thief on a high-stakes job.

And maybe he is. Maybe he's been commissioned for the job of stealing the love of his life back from a psychotic prince – a prince who isn't quite used to hearing the word ' _no._ '

"Hey, Rider."

Whipping around, immediately recognizing the feminine voice in the otherwise silent hallway, Eugene's eyes widen as he finds himself staring down the end of a lethal weapon. Before Eugene can think of a witty response – before he has the chance to react _at all_ – an arrow is sinking deep into his muscled bicep, causing him to clench and whine in pain.

"You're a real son-of-a-bitch, you know that?" Stalyan smirks, dropping the crossbow to her side with a proud air about her. "Really, I should've known that a prison cell wouldn't be able to keep _you_ of all people down for very long. Let me guess, your idiot friends helped you?"

Slinking forward, Stalyan admires her handiwork, studying Eugene closely as he frantically grasps at his shaking, bloody arm.

"Honestly, you took ahell of a lot longer to get out of there than I thought you would. What, have you lost all sense of sanity without the princess here to help you keep it all together? She's had you on the straight and narrow for so long, you forgot how to _pick a lock?"_ The Baron's daughter scoffs, shaking her head humorously. "That's a little pathetic, even for you, Rider."

Bewildered, Eugene's eyes dart between Stalyan, the crossbow in her hand, and the subsequent arrow which has sunk itself deep into his arm, his brain falling into a curious mixture of shock, anger, and general lightheadedness.

 _Well,_ _ **that's**_ _new._ For a moment, Eugene wonders when exactly Stalyan had gotten to be such a good shot, because she'd had a pretty lousy aim when he'd known her. She'd typically used her mouth and her hands to get her out of troublesome predicaments, and not her less-than-stellar use of a crossbow.

Her _previously_ less-than-stellar use of a crossbow.

"Ah!" Eugene hisses, abruptly sucking in a large breath of air through his teeth and grabbing at his arm as the impalement adjusts itself further beneath his skin — his arm, which now has a _fucking arrow_ protruding from the muscle. " _Ow_ … what the _fuck_ was that for!?"

He all but screams the question, staring at Stalyan expectantly for a reasonable explanation, a searing pain ripping through Eugene's body as he tentatively tugs at the arrow, silently wondering just how detrimental it would be to simply yank it out.

"I _told_ you. I wasn't going to leave the palace until I got my payout." Stalyan shrugs easily, sauntering toward him, inspecting her nails nonchalantly, and acting as though Eugene doesn't deserve so much as a simple explanation for her sudden bout of aggression toward him. "And originally, well… that payout was _you_. I thought that I could get you back, get the princess's greedy little hands off of you once and for all. But, you know. Plans change, people change."

Stalyan shrugs again, casually circling him.

"And _now_ , I have strict orders to make sure that you don't leave Corona, and I was promised a _very_ pretty penny to follow those orders. And you know how much I like my money..." She reaches out, running a gentle finger along his jaw – which is in desperate need of a shave – which Eugene immediately swats away with his good arm. "Don't you, Rider?"

"Would you _stop_ calling me that?" Eugene grits his teeth, keeling over as he tries his best to press a hand to the wound around the arrow, trying to keep the blood from gushing through his white shirt and soaking the sleeve completely. "That's not my name. My name is _Eugene_. And you're not going to get the princess's hands off of me no matter what you do, so cut the bullshit! If you know where she is, you better fucking tell me, Stalyan."

Could things really get any worse? After Rapunzel being taken by Charles, spending an entire week in a painfully-too-small prison cell with an angry Cassandra, and the argument with Frederic, the _last_ thing that Eugene needs right now, is having to deal with a jealous Stalyan – all with _a_ _damn arrow in his arm._

"Oh, _right_... right." The Baron's daughter snickers, a smile of unrequited humor falling from her lips. "I guess I should call you by your real name now, huh? After all, it was pretty comical listening to the princess mumble it over and over again while she was all _unconscious_ and stuff. You know, when we were getting her to the ship?"

Stalyan flits around him in a mocking gesture, pressing a hand to her cheek in a sarcastic display of dismay.

"Eugene, Eugene! _Save me!_ Oh, I'm so incapable of saving myself from a tower, and from my husband, and I always need _you_ to save me!"

Eugene narrows his eyes violently at Stalyan, ready to bark out an equally painful insult, but he's starting to feel a little too dizzy from the blood loss to think of one. Flynn Rider, he knows, would've been able to. But he's not Flynn anymore.

The sarcasm-dripped gesture completely infuriates him – not only because Stalyan is blatantly insulting Rapunzel, but because the insult is so entirely untrue. Rapunzel doesn't _need_ anyone to rescue her, and he knows that, too. Eugene only goes after her time and time again, because he _wants_ to. Because he loves her so much that it actually hurts, even more than the arrow currently sunk deep into his arm.

But really, Rapunzel has saved him so many more times than he's saved her, in so many more ways.

"Don't you fucking _dare_ —"

"But even you couldn't save her this time, could you?" Stalyan abruptly interrupts the empty warning which falls dead on Eugene's tongue, donning a faked sympathy. "Mmm. It's a shame, really. You two are a real match made in heaven, aren't you? No matter what you do, the universe just keeps tearing you apart, doesn't it?"

Stalyan clicks her tongue, obviously pleased with her performance.

"And to think, you could've just saved yourself all of this trouble, and came back to _me_. I told you, Rider, thieves _belong_ together." She steps close, drawing herself up to be at eye-level with him, pushing Eugene's hand a little harder into the wound, causing him to bite back a pathetic moan. "You know, you still _could_ come back to me… if you wanted to. And we could just forget this whole thing. Things could be the way that they were."

"I — are you _insane?_ Seriously, Stalyan, have you finally lost it, once and for all?" Motioning to his arm, Eugene shakes his head at his ex-flame in disgusted disbelief. "You just fucking _SHOT_ me!"

"Oh, come on, _Eugene_. I shot you in the _arm_ , not in the heart." Stalyan twists her face into a dramatized look of displeasure, looking up at him through heavy eyelashes, still not liking the way that his real name feels on her tongue.

It's just one more, _stupid_ reminder of the steady hold which the princess now has over him: a hold which Stalyan was never strong enough to keep over him herself.

"We always were a little toxic, anyways. But like, in a fun, sexy sort of way." Stalyan chuckles, waving her hand casually. "This isn't personal. I'm willing to put it in the past, if you are."

Eugene silently quirks a dark eyebrow at her, eyes again darting between the Baron's daughter and the arrow protruding from his arm.

"Ugh, okay. It _is_ a little personal. But so what?" Stalyan throws her free hand into the air, allowing it to fall dramatically back to her thigh with a loud _slap_. "I only shot you because I'm getting paid to make sure that your lovesick ass doesn't go after the little princess!"

"What makes you think that locking me in a prison cell, and shooting me in the _arm,_ will keep me away from her?" Eugene looks Stalyan directly in the violet eyes, trying his very best to ignore the sudden bout of lightheadedness overtaking his body now. "You're going to have to kill me if you don't want me to go after her. Quite literally _kill_ _me_."

Eugene chuckles darkly, clutching at his blood-soaked arm, a thousand memories rippling in the tension-filled air between them, praying that these memories are enough to provide him with the upper hand.

"And we both know, no matter how much you might _want_ to hate me… you would never do that."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure, if I were you." Stalyan raises the crossbow slightly, waving it in the air to prove her point.

 _I don't have time for this. I don't have fucking time for this! I don't have time to argue with Stalyan, and I don't have time for_ _**anything** _ _that's going to keep me away from Rapunzel any longer than I already have been._

Sighing deeply, Eugene rubs at his forehead, searching for words which he'd never thought he would be saying to her – because the last time that he'd thought them, he'd been too selfish of a person to say them out loud. Looking Stalyan in the eye once more, Eugene steps forward with a pleading expression, begging for his ex-fiancé to listen to him, just this once.

"Look, Stalyan. I'm sorry. Okay? I'm _truly_ sorry. And I'm not just saying that because I feel like I have to. I'm saying that because… well, because you deserved to hear it a long time ago."

Stalyan blinks, a deep frown falling upon her face, his words having shocked her into shutting up.

"I'm sorry for leaving you at the altar, I'm sorry for how fucked up our relationship was, and I'm sorry for the way that things ended between us. I should've just been honest with you, a lot sooner than that day. And while we're on the issue, I'm sorry for all of the times that I fooled around behind your back. Really, I am. It's not like you didn't do it to me, too, but..."

Eugene trails off, shaking his head in frustration. Rehashing the past with Stalyan is completely redundant, and something that he really doesn't have the time for. Getting to Rapunzel: that's the _only_ thing that matters now. Not the person that Eugene had been while he was still with Stalyan, and not the person that Stalyan had been while she was still with him. They'd simply brought out the worst in each other, and always had.

And that's precisely why Eugene had skipped town on their wedding day.

"Look, it doesn't matter. I'm not the man who treated you that way anymore. And I'm sorry that I can't love you in the way that you want me to, in the way that I love _her_ …"

Eugene takes in a shaky breath, trying to hold himself together as Rapunzel's terrified face flashes in his mind, desperately trying (and failing) not to recall the way that she'd looked as she'd sailed away on that ship.

"But I just _can't_. She's everything to me, okay? _Everything_. She's the only thing that's ever made me want to be a better person. And I'm trying to do that, trying to right my wrongs. But I can't do it without her, I can't… Stalyan, _I can't go on_ without her. Please try to understand that. Try to understand what it feels like to love someone more than yourself."

Eugene has successfully captured her attention now, watching Stalyan closely as she stares back at him, listening – probably having dreamed about this long-time-coming apology from him for so long now.

"Fuck. I mean, maybe I should've started by righting my wrongs with you. I should've given you closure. You deserved that much from me, after all of the years that we spent together. I had my reasons for not wanting to get married then, but you deserved to hear them. And I know that you're angry with me, and I know that you're bitter, and I understand. I get it. I was a _complete_ asshole, and I deserve for you to hate me for the rest of time."

Eugene takes another, tentative step forward, visibly pleading with the Baron's daughter now – something that he hadn't _wanted_ to do, but will do for Rapunzel's sake.

"But _she_ doesn't deserve your hatred. _She_ doesn't deserve any of this. She doesn't deserve to be taken away from her home, not again. And she sure as _hell_ doesn't deserve to be treated this way. Not by you, and not Charles. Not by anyone. She's already gone through enough!"

"Well, she _is_ the perfect little Lost Princess, isn't she?" Stalyan mumbles with a roll of her violet eyes, unable to look at him as she says it, because even she knows what a low blow it truly is. "Maybe she just needs to _stay_ _lost_."

Immediately, Eugene's expression shifts from pleading, to deeply angry, completely offended by the comment – so offended, in fact, that he can't help but _laugh_ at Stalyan's shallow selfishness. It's a painful, numbing selfishness which makes Eugene all the more thankful that he'd met Rapunzel.

Because if he hadn't, he never would've outgrown it himself, and he would still have a void in his heart as deep as Stalyan's. He would still be trying to fill that void with money, and riskier heists, and forgettable women who would never even know his real name.

"God, Stalyan! Just cut the bullshit for one second and _listen to me!_ He's going to do something to her, something bad! You might think that you know him, and you might think that you can trust him, but you _don't_ and you _can't_." Eugene grits his teeth, completely fed up with trying to be complacent enough to please her, just enough that she'll let him go. "Can you seriously live with yourself to know that? To know that, if something happens to a completely innocent person, you'll be partly to blame?"

Eugene stares at her with a look of unhidden revulsion, knowing once and for all that the woman standing before him, has become a stranger once more. It hadn't been their lengthy time apart which had the power to consciously confirm this, hadn't been him blowing her off on the day of their _wedding._ No, it had taken loving Rapunzel – it had taken being loved _by her_ – for Eugene to see her true colors: to see Stalyan for who she really was. Now, she is no different than the person that she'd been when he was fifteen, when she was standing before him for the very first time. Now, she is a complete and utter _stranger_.

And Eugene doesn't want to know her, not ever again.

Stalyan scoffs at his question, shifting uncomfortably, moving her weight between both of her black-booted feet.

"The princess? Innocent? _Please_. She's the farthest thing from —"

"Yes, she _is_ , Stalyan." Eugene interjects harshly, forcing Stalyan to snap her mouth shut once more. "She's a perfectly sweet, perfectly kind person. A person who would've done anything to be your friend if you hadn't come here with bad intentions. A person who doesn't deserve any of this to happen to her. _Again!_ "

Not caring about the way that his voice is now rising through the chandelier-dripped hallway, Eugene narrows his eyes at her, tired of having to defend someone as perfect as Rapunzel, to someone as selfish as Stalyan.

"God, it's not _her fault_ that I can't love you! It's not her fault that you can't have me!"

Stalyan sputters angrily at this, rushing toward Eugene – as if to seek _comfort_ from him – but stopping awkwardly just a few feet before him.

"Of course it is! If it weren't for her, you'd want me back —"

"No, Stalyan, I wouldn't. Whether I fell in love with her or not, we were never right for each other. I figured that out long before I met her. It's _kind of_ why I left you at the altar!" Eugene reasons, frustrated that this long-winded conversation isn't _over_ , when he could already be on a ship to Rapunzel. "That was ages ago! You've gotta get over it, girl! And I'm sorry if that's harsh, but it's the truth. Our relationship was a mess, and that doesn't have anything to do with her. You know that it was, and I knew it _years_ before I even met her! So, if you need someone to take your anger out on, then take it out on me. I can handle it. But do not – I swear, Stalyan – do _not_ take it out on _her_."

Eugene looks down to inspect the arrow in his arm, the blood gushing from the wound having subsided by only a minuscule amount. If he doesn't get this patched up soon, he's going to pass out in the middle of the hallway, and that isn't going to do Rapunzel any good. Looking up at Stalyan, Eugene heaves his chest to intake enough air to keep talking, the dizziness threatening to overtake him completely.

"What else do I need to say, Stalyan? Just tell me, and I'll say it. Is it the money that you want? Look, I'll make sure that you get your payout, okay? I know people, important people. I know _the king_. If you let me go, I will personally make sure that you get whatever it is that you want." Eugene shallows hard, swaying a bit in place, forcing himself to keep his heavy eyelids from falling shut. "But please, I'm _begging_ you... Stalyan, I'm begging you, for the sake of the love of my life, for the sake of my _sanity_ … please just let me go! She needs me right now, and I need her!"

Through hooded eyes, Eugene looks to Stalyan imploringly, swaying with his entire body now, as though he were painfully drunk.

"Okay? I'll get you your money. _Please_. I need her."

"Say that again."

Stalyan steps toward him, that same, playful smile tugging at her lips once more: the one that had so evilly graced her face when she'd first shot him. Eugene isn't entirely sure if that was ten minutes ago, or ten hours ago.

"I need her?"

"No, you lovesick _idiot_. The begging part!"

"Come on, Stalyan, I'm fucking serious!" Eugene whines, clutching at his aching arm. "I don't have time for this —"

"So am I! Now say it. You owe me that much!"

Frankly, standing here with an _arrow_ imbedded in his arm, Eugene doesn't feel like he owes Stalyan _shit_. Not after the way that she'd treated him for the better part of a decade, which had been just as bad as the way that he'd treated her (honestly, if not worse, what with her always-condescending tone and manipulative tendencies). To meet Stalyan on her high horse was excruciating, but he had to do it.

He _would_ do it, for Rapunzel's sake. Quietly, and grovel-like, and hating every single second of the climb up. But he would do it.

"I'm begging you to please let me leave the castle."

Stalyan sighs heavily, shaking her head, as though she can't believe her own weakness.

" _Fine_."

"Fine?" Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, Eugene sends a silent praise to the heavens. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." Stalyan confirms, casually crossing her arms over her chest, tucking the crossbow neatly beneath her armpit. "Under one, little condition."

"Anything."

"I get my payout."

"You'll get your payout." Rapunzel's face floods into Eugene's mind, and he feels a little like he's just sold his soul to the devil for the sake of an angel. The words leave his mouth in his own voice, though he hears them in his mind as her sweet, soft one. "I _promise_."

Apparently having been satisfied enough with his groveling, Stalyan reaches forward with a smirk, and suddenly rips the arrow from Eugene's upper arm, causing him to kneel over and bite his lip hard in the attempt to hold back a pathetically loud groan.

"Just like ripping off a bandage, huh?" Stalyan twirls the bloodied arrow between her fingers, inspecting the blood-covered tip closely – apparently, for any remains of his burning flesh.

"That fucking _hurt!_ "

Clutching at his arm, Eugene sucks in a hot bout of air, cursing under his breath. Sighing dramatically with a roll of her eyes, Stalyan takes a wad of bandages from her pocket, rolling up his bloody sleeve and securing a long strip of the white cloth around Eugene's bicep. She places a steady pressure upon the wound as she ties the ends of the cloth tightly together, and Eugene stares at her as Stalyan makes hasty work of the makeshift bandage.

Stalyan eyes him back, fluttering her eyelashes to look away from him, her expression showcasing what Eugene swears is _pity_ for his predicament – as if it's not _her_ _fault_ that he'd been shot in the first place.

"What? I wanted to slow you down, not _kill_ you."

When she finishes wrapping the already-bloody bandage around his arm, Stalyan stares at Eugene for a long moment, silently handing the remaining rolled-up cloth to him. He stares back, an unspoken history lingering between them: a tumultuous history, one which had once been filled to the brim with nostalgia and poisonous passion, but has now been blackened in the last several weeks of Stalyan living in the castle and successfully wreaking her havoc. Frankly, Eugene is aching to cuss her out for the repercussions which have occurred as a result of Stalyan snitching to Charles about his affair with Rapunzel.

Ultimately, though, Eugene knows that he only has himself to blame for selfishly putting his love in such danger, and he doesn't have time to waste.

Eugene only has himself to blame for what has happened to Rapunzel. He only has himself to blame for making Stalyan hate him enough to want to put the princess in harm's way for the simple sake of revenge, in the name of trying to get him back. He knows that, and he won't even begin trying to deny it.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, assuming that there's nothing more to be said between them, Eugene turns to make his way down the ghostly-quiet hallway once again, mentally preparing himself to leave the castle grounds, and get to Rapunzel. He silently prays that he can somehow find passage on the world's fastest sailing ship, and that Cassandra and Lance haven't already left without him.

"Hey…" The Baron's daughter pauses from making her own way back down the hall, wringing her wrists nervously (and Stalyan doesn't _get_ nervous), the crossbow still tucked tightly under her arm, as if she's contemplating what to say to him.

As if she's contemplating an appropriate goodbye, finally accepting that this _is_ goodbye. _The_ goodbye: the one that she'd never properly gotten from him.

"Eugene?"

Surprised, Eugene stops and turns back to look at her, having assumed that Stalyan would never acknowledge his real name – not after making a mockery of it ever since she'd arrived at the castle.

"Yeah?"

"Good luck. I think you're gonna need it."

 **AN: This chapter also took so long to be posted, because I honestly didn't know if I even liked it. I ended up sitting on it for a long time, mostly because I understood that Eugene is 1000% capable of getting himself out of a prison cell, and I wasn't sure if I wrote Lance in character (I mean, he's so happy-go-lucky typically, but this situation is so screwed up, so his annoyance felt warranted). But I wanted to involve Eugene, Cassandra,** _**and** _ **Lance in Rapunzel's rescue mission, so we're going on the assumption here that Eugene didn't have anything at his disposal** _**to** _ **pick the prison cell lock. Just bear with me, if you would be so kind. I understand that he easily could've broken himself out immediately, but he needs his friends to light a fire under his ass right now, okay? Just like I needed a fire lit under _my ass_ to finally get this chapter up. I'm looking at you, Kelsey. ;)**

 **I truly did enjoy writing the character study at the beginning from Lance's point of view, because I hadn't written from his perspective yet. His thoughts about Rapunzel were meant to parallel Cassandra's thoughts toward Eugene: both Lance and Cassandra understand that this situation is ultimately Charles's fault. But they're both feeling some bitterness over New Dream's inability to let one another go, when letting one another go would have** _**protected** _ **their respective best friend. Does that make sense?**

 **On another note, how do you guys feel about the conversation between Stalyan and Eugene? It's always irked me that, in the series,** _**Rapunzel** _ **was the one to forgive Stalyan, not Eugene. Why should that forgiveness be placed upon Rapunzel's shoulders? Why should Rapunzel have to redeem everyone, especially Stalyan, when she'd clearly treated** _**Eugene** _ **so horribly for years? I don't know, it's always bothered me, and I wanted to give Eugene a chance to say his peace. Let me know your thoughts, and just know that I am so incredibly happy to be back with you guys.**


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